#( there's a small chance that i will... try to reboot... )

[lov3lyl3tters]

I loved your “admiring” fic!! Is there any chance you could do one similar where Spencer and reader are dating and reader purposefully makes Spencer flustered and all “malfunctioned” and stuff? 🫶 I could just imagine Spencer being like mid info dump and he just loses his train of thought and is as red as a tomato HAHA 😭😭❤️❤️

“Flustered”

Summary: Spencer loves to ramble, and you love to listen—but more than anything, you love making him completely short-circuit mid-sentence. With a well-timed compliment, you manage to do the impossible: render Dr. Spencer Reid speechless.

Warnings: teasing, something on quantum entanglement, spencer flustered (when he said he forgot something i mean it in the most fluffy way possible PLEASE🙏)

A/N: THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST AHHHV ILY

Spencer’s mid-info dump.

He’s going on about quantum entanglement, hands gesturing animatedly as he explains the concept in painstaking detail. You’re listening (sort of), but mostly, you’re watching—watching the way his lips move, the way his brows furrow in concentration, the way his fingers twitch with nervous energy.

And then, you strike.

“God, you’re so pretty when you ramble.”

Spencer’s entire body freezes—like someone just hit the pause button on him. His mouth opens and closes twice, and then, just like that, his brain completely short-circuits.

“I—uh—what?”

You tilt your head, feigning innocence. “What? You don’t like being called pretty?”

His ears are red. His entire face is red. If you look closely, you’re pretty sure you can see the exact moment his neurons combust.

“I—I mean—” Spencer swallows hard, struggling to reboot. “That’s not—people don’t usually—”

“Because they’re blind,” you say, completely deadpan. “You’re the prettiest genius I’ve ever seen.”

He makes a strangled sound, something between a gasp and a whimper, and you swear his soul leaves his body for a second.

Spencer Reid, certified genius, IQ of 187, eidetic memory—is malfunctioning.

It’s glorious.

“I—um—” He blinks rapidly, shifting in his seat, clearly trying to compose himself. “Th-that’s not a scientifically measurable trait—”

You lean in just a little, watching as he physically stops breathing.

“It is when I say it is.”

Spencer swallows again, visibly recalculating all of his life choices. His fingers tap frantically against the table, his usual nervous tic amplified tenfold.

You lean back, completely satisfied, and take a sip of your drink like you didn’t just obliterate the poor man’s entire existence.

Spencer just stares at you, wide-eyed and dazed.

And then, in a small, defeated whisper:

“…I forgot what I was talking about.”

[heissenn]

𝐇𝐒𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 featuring: silver wolf, lingsha, the herta, kafka, sparkle tags: fluff, self-aware au

silverwolf

"you're kidding me," you hear silverwolf's annoyed voice through your headphones.

silverwolf watches through your camera as you put both your hands together and lower your head in apology. before you can say your sorry excuses, the hacker sighs loudly and beats your incoming punch with her own. "it's the meta isn't it?"

"i mean, it'd make sense to pull for newer characters since you can't even clear endgame," she teases, taking a jab at your gaming skills every chance she gets like she usually does. her voice sounded light and casual but the twinge of dejection didn't escape your trained ears. you couldn't think of anything else to say since she saw right through your reasons.

"i won't say i don't understand. i'm a gamer too, y'know." silverwolf shrugs as she pops her bubblegum with a loud smack. she takes out her phone and gave it a few taps.

"but that doesn't mean i'm gonna accept your decision." and with that, your screen suddenly turns black. you try to restart your computer and reboot the game but the black screen keeps staring right back at you.

after a few weeks of multiple failed attempts, rendering you unable to pull for the character you wanted. hours right before the banner ends, your computer finally comes back to life. however, you log in to the game only to find out all your reserves of stellar jades and special passes were emptied.

you hear a bubblegum smack as you look at your screen in despair.

lingsha

"i wonder what made you go back on your promise," lingsha is as sweet as ever even as you break the news to her. she smiles at you over your screen albeit her eyes were dimmer and you see a raging vein popping in the side of her smooth forehead, a clear sign she's quite irritated.

"you were doing so good saving up for me, dear. you even told me you were going to get all of my eidolons," her smile twitches as the words leave her mouth and her hands that were petting tuskpir freeze for a moment before caressing again.

"did other women caught your eye, perhaps?" she asks with a raised eyebrow, staring right at you and boring a hole through your soul despite being in a completely dimension as you. "no, of course not," you deny as soon as her words materialized in the air.

"then, what prompted the change of plans?" she asks again, more firmly this time. tuskpir notices the change in her demeanor and quickly scurried off, leaving you alone to deal with a quietly seething cauldron master.

"have you lost interest in me then? maybe in starting to lose my touch." linsgha is confident she has you wrapped around her finger but she still couldn't help but question, it has more to do with her desire to see you squirm uncomfortably rather than being conscious of her charms.

"you know as well as i do that i haven't," your answer sounded more like a plea. it gave lingsha satisfaction but, unfortunately, her mind games are not over yet. at least not until she gets what she wants.

"so, what is the reason then, darling," the question leaves her mouth for the third time but her small smile never left her face once although it was slowly becoming smaller and smaller. you stay silent, racking your brain for reasons to ease her tranquil wrath. she takes your pause as cue to give you her final blow of the long interrogation.

"if you don't have one, then let's do as you promise. warp for me." there wasn't room for questions unlike her previous remarks. her hand outstretches to you as if inviting. you nod without a second thought.

the herta

"why?"

herta is confused. not pull for her? that is something even lifeforms with the lowest intelligence would not dare do. unfathomable. doing the unthinkable might have been what initially made herta take interest in you but now she thinks you're losing a few braincells.

"who could possibly be better than me?" it would take a whole lot to damage the herta's enormous and pristine ego but she thinks your decision poked it a little. "there's no correct answer by the way. no one is better than me," she answers her own question.

"perhaps you've grown complacent because you have my puppets with you." she comes closer to your screen. "but do you not want the real thing?" she asks as her voice tickles your ears trough the speakers. but before she can get anymore closer she stops halfway through, rekindling your desire to pull her closer.

"well, feel free to do as you like. i could care less about what you do anyways," she flips her silky hair and struts away from you.

well, that went easier than you thought. you were sure herta would give you hell for even thinking about not pulling for her. so you go on your merry way to go back to farming.

"not even one stellar jade?!?! after three hours of farming!"

you spent your remaining fuels and trailblazer power but it seems the system is bent on cursing you. the monsters were harder to beat and the rare instance that you do the drops were extremely scarce.

in the end, you weren't able to pull for the character you wanted due to insufficient resources.

kafka

"there's no need to choose, love." kafka says calmly as she looks down at you from her seat. the camera is always angled upwards every time she's on screen, effectively you making you crane your neck to glance at her like is the sky.

"name the price and you shall have it," she declares without any hesitation. her smooth cheek rests on her palm as if sponsoring your pulls are as trivial as the sky being blue.

"i-no, it's wrong. i don't want you to use your money on me," no matter how enticing the offer was, your morals held you back from accepting. you're not her sugar baby, you remind yourself.

"and i don't want you wanting anyone else other me," she replies without missing a beat and your heart thumps louder with how fast she responded without an ounce of doubt in her smooth voice.

"so don't be shy and take it. i want you to have me."

sparkle

"YES! FIRST TEN PULLS AND SHE FINALLY CAME HOME!"

you stand from your chair in shock as the character you've been warping for appear on screen. your fingers hurriedly go to the character menu to greet the new addition to your roster.

"hello~, little one," the character greets you. odd, you don't think the character would call you 'little one'. you only know one person that would call you such nickname. the feeling of familiarity creeps up from your spine and settles at the back of your tongue as you come up with a plausible deduction.

"sparkle," you sigh. you should've known sparkle wouldn't just sit around and watch you warp for somebody else.

"oh no! my cover's been blown," despite the words, the character giggles as she puts her hand in front of her lips. slowly the character's appearance morph into the mischievous girl you know.

"whats with the disappointed look? you're hurting my feelings, cutie," sparkle fakes a pout as her hand press against her chest before her signature smirk takes home in her lips again.

"you should've seen your face when you were celebrating!" she clasps her hands in front and her eyes cloud and get dreamy as she reminisces your reaction.

"you must be even happier since you got a better one, me" she blows a kiss to your camera.

[makeyoumine69]

Spit In My Face

PAIRING: Sugar Daddy!Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Fashion Week is in full swing in New York City and Patrick Bateman doesn't miss the chance to show you the world of luxury and beauty. So, he invites you to attend the fashion show with him. Through the chain of events that unfold there, you will see a new side of Mr. Bateman that you never knew existed.

TAGS: Angsty romance, smut, toxic behavior, gaslighting, cheating, misogyny, hurt/comfort, seduction, swearing, flirting, sensual kisses & touches, jealousy, implications of self harm & panic attacks, (almost) character death, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering, rough sex, finger sucking, spanking, biting, manhandling, choking, orgasm control, dry humping, nipple play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, body worship, Daddy kink, Praise kink, pet names, dirty talk, Service!Dom!Patrick Bateman being an asshole (again).

WORDS: 21k (oops)

SONG REC: ThxSoMch - Spit In My Face

A/N: Hey guys! It took me a year to finally finish this and I decided to post all the parts together since most of you probably forgot what happened in the previous ones (I'll delete the old posts). I did some extra editing before posting and I hope you like it and I'm happy to get back to writing and soon I'll be rebooting the Cupcake series as I've already started working on prequels. Love you all!

Fashion, grace, money, wealth, these were the words running through your head as you rode in the taxi, and you couldn't believe Patrick had just convinced you to go to the goddamn Dior boutique. Not to mention the upcoming fashion show you were going to together, which was an actual nightmare for you and your nervous system.

“I really can’t understand. Why me?” You asked Bateman, turning in his direction to see him looking through the window, with his headphones on. And of course, he didn’t hear you. 

All you could do was give him a shy tap on the shoulder. You heard the loud beats of rock music as he opened one of his ears and turned to face you. "What?"

His slightly annoyed intonation almost discouraged you from repeating your question. "I'm just wondering why you decided to invite me to this fashion show when you have much better options." 

You watched him frown, and before you continued, you already knew what Patrick was going to say: "Cupcake, I've told you several times. I want to show you the beauty of being rich. I bet you've never seen so many fabulous people in one place."

Sighing a little sadly, you fixed your coat to distract yourself from the burning anger in your chest. "I've had enough of the rich snobs in our company and…I’m not a fan of all these 'luxurious’ things, you know…”

With a small chuckle, Bateman removed his headphones completely, quickly checking his haircut in the window's reflection. 

"Of course you're not. How can you be a fan of things you can't afford?" He stated before trying to hug your shoulders, but when he saw your intense expression, he just gently put his palm on your knee.

"Money is not happiness," you cast a serious look at him, brushing his hand away from your leg. "Can you call yourself a happy man?"

Perplexed, Patrick knitted his eyebrows, as if your question had caught him off guard —you have never seen him so lost before and that was really strange. Fidgeting in his place, Bateman was certainly about to replay something when you heard the raspy taxi driver’s voice:

“We’ve arrived.”

"Thank you!" You responded before quickly getting out of the cab without waiting for Patrick to pay for your ride.

Obviously, you were upset and pissed off because of his endless snobbish dialogues about rich people, money and how much his regular suit cos—tnone of this really interested you, would he ever understand that?

As soon as you were outside, you felt a stiff wind blowing through your hair, ruffling it and making your mischievous locks cover your face. Quickly, you brushed them away and raised your eyes to the beautiful sign that read "Dior" in large letters; so stylish, so plush—just the way he liked it.

"Are you going to stand here forever?" Bateman scolded behind your back, his loud footsteps forcing you to spin around. 

"I'm so amazed, I can't even move," you sarcastically sneered, staring at the window of the boutique. "The aura of richness has just overwhelmed me."

"How witty," Bateman almost applauded you, his lips curling into a cheeky grin as he came closer, his muscular arms wrapped around your waist. "Come on, let's go inside." With a light push on your back, he induced you to move forward, his arms never left your little form. 

When you finally reached the entrance of the store, Patrick gallantly opened the door in front of you and looked at you from above, his eyes glowing with an unfamiliar tenderness.

"Much obliged..." You stammered as he somehow managed to grab your ass, stroking it and squeezing your buttock a little through your coat. Embarrassed, you turned to face him, but Bateman just smiled in his usual smug way. 

"My pleasure." He murmured in your ear before letting you go.

Once inside the boutique, you heard someone greeting Patrick with undisguised excitement:

"Mr. Bateman! It's so nice to see you again!  Welcome to Dior, we are so happy to help you."

'Again, huh?' You chuckled to yourself, turning your gaze to a side and wondering about the number of his visits and how many girls had been here before; Bateman’s face changed almost immediately as if he noticed your reaction.

“Thank you for the warm welcome, Mr. Graham,” you could definitely hear some tense notes in his tone. “You look great as always!”

The guy let out a little giggle; he seemed to enjoy the compliments as much as your yuppie boy. “Not as perfect as you!” he pointed his both index fingers at Patrick, and now was his turn to grin from being praised. “How can I help you?”

“Uh, I need a dress for…” he paused before staring at you, his eyes gliding over your completely relaxed expression. “For my good friend, but she doesn’t really know what she likes,” ‘good friend, with whom he slept almost every day. Nice shot, Bateman.' “Don’t cha, baby?” While saying that, Patrick groped your cheek, pinching it a bit.

Mr. Graham, who was supposed to be a local stylist, gave two of you a suspicious glare, and only then did Patrick understand what he was doing, pulling his hand away as if it had been burned. 

"Well, if the young lady doesn't mind, we can try something to your taste, Mr. Bateman," the stylist confirmed, examining you like a statue. "What do you think?"

"Great idea," Patrick exclaimed, pulling you into his arms to take off your coat. You almost fell into his embrace, whimpering as he 'accidentally' touched your boobs, squeezing them gently. 'Fuck, why should he be so obnoxious?' "I can't wait to see my Cupcake in one of these beautiful dresses." He whispered before leaving a tiny peck on your neck.

"That's very sweet of you, but..." you murmured, looking into his hazel eyes. "I don't think I'll fit into those dresses."

"Don't worry, honey." Bateman winked at you and gave you a quick slap on your butt to nudge you toward Mr. Graham, whose smile widened the longer he watched the two of you together.

“Please, follow me.”

Trying to distract yourself from all the bad thoughts, you just did what you were told and moved along countless hangers with new dresses. The further you got away from Patrick, the more insecure you became, and that strange feeling made your whole body shiver like from a cold shower.

“So, which color do you want to try on first? Maybe something dark?” the man asked you, sliding his hand across the beautiful fabric of some dress nearby. “Dark blue or dark red…Or even black?”

"I really like the black color, it goes with almost everything."

Mr. Graham chuckled amusedly and handed you a black cocktail dress, which of course was very short. Apparently Patrick didn't like long dresses or skirts, you already knew that, but that didn't mean you were happy about it.

“Mm-mh, and I think this one can fit too,” he gave you another dark blue dress before adding. “I still recommend you to have a look at our new collection, maybe you’ll find something interesting.”

“Maybe you’re right,” you sighed and smiled sincerely for the first time of the day. "Those amazing dresses I saw when we just entered are from a new collection?"

“Yes, Miss.”

"I'll check them out. And… thank you, Mr. Graham." Excited, you smiled again, and then you strolled away, a pile of dresses in your hands.

Once you reached the place you had been before, you heard multiple voices—one of them definitely belonged to Patrick while another one seemed to be unknown to you.

"What are you doing here?" You peeked out from behind the hangers to see a beautiful blonde girl, her face literally glowing with enthusiasm. "I'm so glad to see you, it's been a while." You didn't even have to look to know what she did next as the loud pecking sound echoed in your ears as if you had been hit with something hard.

The blonde left a small kiss on Patrick's cheek before he replied. "Good to see you too, Meredith."

“Are you here alone?”

“Mm-mhhm,” Bateman looked around and when he didn’t spot you, he added almost emotionlessly. “Yeah, you can say that.”

An instant pain burned in your chest, causing your hands to cling to the dress you were holding. Breathing heavily, you were about to send everything to hell and just leave, but for some reason, you decided to listen to their conversation, maybe you would learn something else about yourself being nothing but an empty place.

"So, are you going to the fashion show this weekend?" She asked cautiously, as if testing his line.

"Sure," they looked into each other's eyes for a while. "You know, I never miss things like that."

The way she giggled, forced you to close your ears from cringe, but that unpleasant sound kept bouncing in your head.

"Do you have a date or not?"

"Why do you ask?" Bateman retorted in a stern but concerned tone.

"I just... I thought maybe we could go together?" Flirtatiously, she pulled him closer, pretending to fix his coat.

"I'm sorry, but the answer is no." Frowning, he quickly took her hand away.

Ashamed, she stepped back and stalled. "You could just say you already have someone to go with and…"

Patrick scowled in irritation, cutting her off. "I'd still say 'no' even if I didn't…"

"Miss, did you find something you like?" Mr. Graham's sudden voice made you jerk and drop the super expensive dress with a thud.

It felt like all eyes were on you at that moment, and you didn't really know what to do other than quickly pick up the dress and act naturally. “God, I’m so sorry…I can be so clumsy sometimes!” You apologized, trying to ignore Bateman’s intense gaze. 

"Don't worry, Miss… it's not a problem!" The stylist assured you, matching his words with reassuring gestures.

"I'll pay for everything,” Patrick pronounced it so calmly and with absolute confidence, as he moved in your direction. “Have you finished?” 

First, you cast a confused glance at him, and then you looked at Meredith, her mad stare of disbelief almost making you laugh. “I think so,” you murmured, watching him getting closer. “I even got some of the new collection.”

“Ahh, is it so?” he teased, standing face to face with you. “Come on, let Daddy see what you’ve got.”

With that said, Patrick leaned over to your lips, and you let him pull you into a deep kiss, which was pretty surprising—your own behavior almost scared you, as you didn’t even care about people watching you making out. Deftly, he grabbed your waist to lift you up, but your audible protest compelled him to stop.

“Pat-Patrick…” you whispered against his mouth. “P-please, don’t forget where we are…”

“I know, I know,” he snickered softly, hiding his face in the curve of your neck. “I just missed my Cupcake so much.”

With a dull grin on your face, you pulled away from him to look into his dark brown eyes. "Really?" After you asked that, you glanced at the blonde girl behind his back, who was now talking to a middle-aged woman, probably the assistant.

“Time literally stopped for me when you left.” 

'What a beautiful flattery.'

After a while, you changed into the next dress because all the previous options didn't get Bateman's attention, even though you really liked them. You were struggling with a clasp when you heard him whine in anticipation.

“Baby, did you fall asleep in there?”

“Almost ready!” You blurted out before fixing the dress straps on your shoulders.

And then you walked out of the dressing room to the circular runway, and yes, this boutique had a special VIP area with a fucking runway.

"Finally, my favorite style," Patrick flattered, sitting in the leather chair and holding a glass of mineral water with a little lime. "Mm-mm, this dress outlines your tits so perfectly, not gonna lie, I like it."

A bit humiliated, you were constantly fixing the hem of the dress as it was too short for you, especially when Bateman was looking at you so vigilantly, making you feel yourself like a picture in some art gallery.

"Baby, turn around and…" he paused, crossing his long legs and pressing a finger to his lips. "Stop crawling! Square your shoulders and straighten your back!"

You turned around, unable to hide your sadness. "I… I don't feel comfortable in this. It's too short," you glanced at his annoyed face, wondering if you should continue. "I'm almost naked!"

"But that's the point!" Patrick tilted his hand to the side and was silent for quite a while, clearly thinking about something. "You know what, Cupcake?"

“What?”

"I'll be honest, this dress is amazing, but… unfortunately not on you," he scoffed before taking a sip of water. "It's not a problem, honey. Just take it as motivation to be better."

Biting your lip, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't try to hide your pain and resentment, but your voice sounded dejected anyway. “Of course… keep pretending that you didn’t expect this…”

Humming to himself, Bateman squinted his eyes and leaned on his knees. “Expected what?”

“That these slutty dresses wouldn't fit me,” you glared at him, your body was yearning to get rid of this dress as quickly as possible. “Goddamn, I have enough of this…I hope you enjoyed this little performance!”

After saying that, you turned around and went back into the dressing room. Trembling with rage, you didn't even care what would come next as the searing flame of injustice overtook your mind. No way would you allow anyone to treat you like that.

"Shit!" You cursed as you attempted to undo the fucking clasp on your back, but it didn't seem to work. 

"If you keep pulling like that, you'll tear it apart for sure," his unexpectedly gruff baritone shot through your back like an arrow. "Let me help you."

"No!" You almost screamed, turning sharply to face him. Your chest rose and fell so abruptly that you thought you would choke on the air.

Sneering, Bateman gently extended a hand as if you were a wild beast he planned to tame. “Cupcake,” he was getting closer, forcing you to walk backwards. “Tell me…what’s wrong?”

"What's wrong?" You kept stepping back until you suddenly bumped into the wall behind you. "Maybe you should ask yourself first?"

"I think you should stop pouting or you will get wrinkles," he tried to be nice to you, but it only made you more upset. "I don't think either one of us wants that to happen, am I right, honey?"

“Stop it, Patrick…”

“Mm-mhh, it’s just Patrick now?” You didn’t even notice that his massive figure was already towering over you, pressing you a little against the wall. “No ‘Daddy’ anymore?”

Possessively, Patrick strived to cup your face, but you flinched away from his touch, coaxing a warning growl to break from his perfectly shaped lips.

 “Can you just leave and let me change?”

“Jesus, (y/n)...you’re acting like a stubborn child!”

Panting, you leaned your hands against his firm chest to push him away a bit. "Do you really think I'm in the mood…after all the rude things you said?"

He chuckled, looking at you from above and giving you a feeling of being so small compared to him, you almost stopped breathing. “Rude things?” laughing again, Bateman trapped you between his arms as he put them from both sides of your head. “I always say what I think, there’s nothing special about it…”

"More likely, you always think only of yourself," your voice wavered, and you found it hard to breathe, as if he was sucking all the oxygen out of the air. "Let's just skip this, if you still want me to go with you..."

“No, I don’t need you to do me a favor.” Patrick shushed you with a finger, pressing it against your lips, leaving you trembling like a leaf. 

“And I don’t need your help!” You tried to break away, but he kept you in one place. 

“Oh, is that so, honey?” he crooned in a sweet tone, rubbing his nose against yours; his seductive aura was almost intoxicating, it was corrupting your mind stronger than anything else in this world. “Honestly, I just wanted to help you undo the clasp but now… now, I want more than that…”

With no delay, Bateman covered your mouth his heated one, wrapping his brawny hands around your quivering frame and spreading your legs with his knee. Suffocated, you didn’t react, feeling his hard bulge brushing against your mound—a muffled moan of sudden pleasure pierced through your bonded lips, sending chills down you spin; your cute reaction didn’t surprise him, but Patrick couldn’t hide his satisfied grin as his hands were already pulling down the straps of your dress. 

And only now, you desperately clawed at his shoulders, weakly pushing him back, not understanding that your attempts to fight him were only putting gasoline on a fire, encouraging him to sprawl you against the wall, pinning your hands against your head.

"P-Patrick!" The way you almost screamed his name made you both tremble with ravenous lust as you looked into each other's eyes, not really knowing if you wanted him to let you go or hold you forever.

Growling quietly, Bateman continued to move along your longing body, forcing you to hook your hip around his loin, so you could grind against his hard groin. “Feeling good, darling?”

'No, not good...no!'

“Yes-s! Mmm-mh…Daddy… ahh!” Oh God, that was the end. 

"Baby," he murmured in your ear, thrusting his firm thighs into yours and shamelessly groping your bottom. "Daddy doesn't like to see his sweet Cupcake upset."

"Maybe...n-next time Daddy will think more before he talks." You stammered from the beat of your heart. 

“Do ya want me to bite this little sharp tongue?” panting, Patrick punctuated his words with rough smacks on your butt, which could be surely heard outside the dressing room. “I’ll teach you how to behave.”

Smoothly, Bateman pulled down the top of your dress, letting your breasts to bounce out from it, and the next second his greedy mouth was already sucking on your taut nipple. 

"Mmm…Gosh." You arched your back as the last vestiges of your self-control seemed to disappear along with your ability to resist this man.

Switching between your engorged peaks, Patrick didn’t stop rubbing against your mound not even for a moment, your throbbing pussy was about to explode at any second. Thirsty, he tugged on your tip with a squelch, enjoying each little whine you made, but he still needed more.

“Turn around,” he urged briefly, licking his lips in hunger as he watched you bent over in front of him. “Oh-fuck, I can smell your sweet arousal… mmm,” snuggling into you, Bateman left a wet hickey on the back of your neck before he started to move down, peppering your exposed skin with hot sloppy kisses. “C’mon, Cupcake, spread your legs for me.”

As if hypnotized, you obeyed and before you even noticed, his long fingers were teasing your sensitive clit trough your so-fucking-wet panties. Clinging to the wall, you were about to moan when you sensed his big palm on your chin, his hot breathing was mercilessly burning the delicate skin of your throat while his rock-hard bulge was still pressed against your ass.

“Aa-aww, Daddy….mhm.” You muffled against your own hand before turning around to give him your most innocent look–he read it almost right away.

“So, you need my help?” bastard! – you almost said it out loud, but Bateman was faster as he slid his thumb into your mouth, and you started to suck it like medicine you couldn’t live without. “Ahh-look at ya… Such a little slutty girl, can’t function without Daddy’s finger inside her dirty mouth…”

Twitching under his massive weight, you could only think of his skilful digits playing with your pussy better than you ever wished for, damn you were already so close but it seemed like Partick's endless craving spurred him on to tear you apart completely.

With no words, Bateman knelt behind your back to pull up the hem of your dress, and soon you had to compress your lips so tightly, as loud nasty sounds were about to erupt from your fiery chest when he finally moved your underwear to the side and his plump lips covered your feverish cunt. 

“Oh-mmmy God,” tensed like a string, you didn’t know if you wanted to cry or to laugh, or all these things together from how his masterful tongue was pushing you over the edge. “Mmm-Patrick-” you suppressed another moan when he bit one of your buttocks before spreading them wide open to push two fingers inside your blushing pussy. “A-aah-Daddy, I’m so close… p-please!”

Patrick only purred something incoherently in response, as he continued to lick your engorged folds and pumping your tight hole with his experienced digits. His persistent ministrations made you totally lose your mind, and now you didn’t understand were you begging him to stop or to NEVER stop. 

When your legs shook in his grip, you heard his raspy snarl: “Not yet, Cupcake…Not yet!”

'And he just stopped, holy hell.'

Your miserable sobbing bounced against the walls of the dressing room as the coil in your lower belly was yearning for its release, it was literally itching so hard you were ready to scratch the wall with your nails if it could help you a bit.

“(Y/N), you can’t even imagine how much I want to leave you just like that,” Bateman hissed, and then you heard the unzipping sound which caused your knees to buckle. "But I want to get all your stupid thoughts about acting like a brat… out of your head!"

Abruptly, Patrick put your legs together and the next second you felt his leaking tip between your legs, brushing against your soaked folds and making your squirm from ecstasy. 

'This man have no barriers, he can reduce me to pieces so easily, like no one else, and I am sure he likes it.'

A small drops of sweat were running down his forehead as he watched his beefy cock slipping back and forth with a sleek sound; your overstimulated pussy was literally on fire.

“P-please…” You whimpered, bending ever lower to give him a better access to your spasming cunt. 

“If you want to cum, you have to move, slut.” Groaning, Bateman stood still with his hands wrapped tightly around your hips. Mesmerised, he watched you grinding on his huge dick as you desperately chased your release. At that moment, your languid, heavy breathing was all that mattered to him.

Shivering erratically, you almost crested your high when Patrick harshly grasped your throat and pressed you against the wall, possessively he began to smack his cock against your clit, each slap he made was taking your breath away.

“Tell me, Cupcake…” he grunted against your neck, brushing his swollen tip along your throbbing nub barely sensible. “Who do you belong to?”

“You…Only y-you...”

Bateman squeezed your neck with blatant dominance and demanded in a low voice, "Uh, not quite convincing…try again."

“Aa-aww! I… I belong to you…Daddy!” You cried out through your pressed palm when he sped up the tempo, slapping your pussy with nasty wet sounds.

With a devilish smirk on his face, Patrick had to hold you still as you cummed so hard, gushing on his dick and fidgeting around the wall. Multiple waves of pleasure were washing over you like a waterfall, leaving you completely exhausted, you didn’t even have any power to moan. 

And soon, you became limp in his powerful arms, allowing him peacefully patting your head as he praised you. “You can be a good girl when you really want to,” Bateman kissed your temple, fixing his pants. “But still, you could just let me help you with this fucking dress.”

“You can help me now…” You replied, hungrily catching the air.

Smugly, Patrick eventually undid the clasp on your dress, not missing the moment to leave a red mark on your shoulder blade as he sucked on your soft skin. “Speaking about dresses. Since my favourite one didn’t fit, you can choose whatever you want…I don’t really care.”

You sighed, smiling ironically to yourself. “Great!”

Bateman didn’t stop smirking even for a second, he was so pleased with himself that he didn’t notice your sarcastic intonation, he just ignored it, as usual. “Come out when you are ready, I’ll wait for you in the hall.”

“What for? I can pay for this myself.”

His cheesy titter unpleasantly cut your ear. “I don't want you to starve, babe,” you cast an angry glance at him, but he only stroked your cheek before adding: “You only need to be an obedient girl, and I'll give you as many gifts as you want.”

“But I didn’t ask...”

A sudden ring of his mobile phone got his attention, so he hushed you with a finger before quickly going out from the dressing room, leaving you alone with your inflaming rage.

Snorting tiredly, you mentally screwed him a million times in a row, changed your clothes and tried not to even think about eavesdropping on his conversation with whoever it was. As you left the dressing room, you heard the echo of his voice from nearby.

“Jesus, Evelyn! I’ve told you already, I can’t take the time off work.”

At that moment, you could swear your legs weren't listening as they led you straight to the source of the sound. With your heart beating, you halted near the dressing room when his voice suddenly fell silent, and the next second the curtain was carelessly pulled aside so that your frightened eyes met his furious ones.

'Oops!'

Annoyed, Patrick stared at you with his hands crossed on his chest. It was too late to run now, so you stood still and heard him saying:

"Are you lost?" With a cocky grin, he picked up his briefcase and stepped closer to you.

"No...I mean, yes. Probably," your cheeks burned from the inside as the strong feeling of embarrassment hit you like a truck. "I was just looking for you and..."

"Aha," he crooned before towering over you, grabbing you possessively by the waist and leaning down to whisper in your ear: "Do you know the proverb 'curiosity killed the cat'?"

"I haven't heard it since I was a kid," you confessed, swallowing hard as you watched him taking the dresses from your hands, the mysterious grin never leaving his face. "Sorry, I really didn't mean to eavesdrop."

“I’m sure you didn’t.” Haughtily, Patrick winked at you, and that was really confusing because his unpredictable mood changes were the most difficult puzzle you had ever known.

“You don’t even want to see which dress I chose?”

"Not really, I'll see it tomorrow anyway," his voice sounded more stern now. "Unless you change your mind about going with me.”

He cast a challenging glance at you, but before you had a chance to reply, Bateman walked past you and gestured for you to follow. Slightly disappointed, you went after him and soon you made it to the hall where all this shit started.

"So, did the young lady find something to her taste?" The stylist asked as soon as he saw you coming. 

"Yep," Patrick let him pick up the dresses and put them on the big table next to the beautiful leather couch on which Bateman kept looking in disgust and you didn't even know why. "(Y/n), c'mon, point with your finger to which dress you like?"

The way he cooed to you was absolutely stunning. Sometimes it seemed like he could read you like an open book, and that only made you feel insecure.

"I think this one." You replied with a shy smile.

"Nice, very nice!" Mr. Graham exclaimed before calling for an assistant to pack your dress. "That will be 2800 dollars, sir."

Satisfied, Bateman hummed to himself and pulled out his wallet. "Do you take credit cards?"

"Of course!"

All the while, you were pretty shocked by the price for just a piece of fabric. Frowning, you didn’t even realize you were saying it out loud. "2800 dollars, for this?"

Everyone, including Patrick, turned to look at you; the stylist was seriously confused and he just mumbled: "Excuse me?"

"Huh, don't worry," Bateman chuckled and handed him his platinum AmEx credit card. "She just can't believe I finally bought her a dress of your brand. Am I right, dear?"

When Patrick glanced at you, you felt a cold breeze run through your body—he must have been really angry. "Mmm, yes! I have been dreaming about this for so long."

Even though you were not an actress, your words sounded more than natural. Both men smiled at each other and proceeded with the payment procedure.

All the way back to his apartment you both remained almost silent. Patrick continued to listen to the rock track he had paused on before going into the store, looking at you from time to time when you didn't see him, his hand fidgeting with the hem of your new dress that was lying on your knees. Yet, you couldn't believe he'd just bought you a dress that cost more than your monthly rent. You hated to owe someone, but now you felt like you did, and it was killing you from the inside...because you didn't ask him to get you that dress, you didn't ask him for anything, and still he was trying to push you into the world of luxury where you would be a stranger forever.

'Bullshit.'

"(Y/n), what's on your mind?" His sudden question caught you off guard, and you almost bit your tongue. Why did he even ask, when it seemed he could read your mind?

Fidgeting in your seat, you turned away from the window and gazed into his brown eyes, now filled with an unrivaled enigma. "Just thinking about how to survive all the challenges you have set for me."

You heard him laugh softly, and before you could continue, he hugged your shoulders and snuggled into your small frame, the heat his body was radiating melted the cold shell you had been building up since the moment he decided to 'help' you in the dressing room.

“Challenges?” Patrick rejoined, nuzzling against your neck as he pulled your collar down a bit. 

“Yes, Patrick,” you were trying to hold yourself as much as you could, not giving him more weaknesses to play around. “You know how much I hate all these fancy things which are made only for rich people.”

Bateman only purred something incoherently against your skin, tickling it a bit. “Cupcake…I think you need to relax.”

“Relax?”

“Yes, baby,” he tugged you closer, his nose was nearly rubbing against yours. 'Goddamn!' “Relax and take it easy.”

"Stop, stop, stop..." you pushed him away a bit, forcing his headphones to slide down his head completely. "You've reminded me almost every day...that I'm not from 'your world', that I'm just a mortal who can't afford to buy fucking clothes that cost a fortune...and now you're telling me to just relax?"

Patrick huffed and rolled his eyes. “(Y/n)...don’t even start this conversation again.”

“You’re such an…”

Despite the fact that the partition in the cab was closed, it seemed as if the taxi driver heard your loud voice, and the next moment he opened it to ask you if everything was all right.

When you said that everything was fine, he started to drive again and you clenched your palms into fists, feeling the embarrassment and anger fighting in your mind.

"You're ashamed of me, aren't you?" You wondered without looking at him. 

The way Bateman exhaled was not a good sign. "When you make such scenes—yes, I am." 

Sighing, you pressed a hand to your forehead. Damn, he was affecting you so badly and you hated yourself for it, for being so weak next to him, so vulnerable...you were literally losing yourself.

His apartment looked perfect as always, so clean, so posh, but there was something strange this time as you walked across the living room and saw a large bouquet of white roses on his kitchen island.

"Mmm, such beautiful flowers!" You approached them to inhale their scent.

"Yeah," he stated from behind, placing your dress on the back of his white couch. "I bought them for you."

Stunned, you broke away from them as if you were pricked. “For me?”

"I'm not going to repeat it," Patrick blurted out, walking into the kitchen to grab a glass and a bottle of super expensive whiskey. "Besides, I don't think it makes any sense now."

'Excellent.' 

Without asking, Bateman set a glass on the bar counter in front of you as you took a seat near it. Still frowning with irritation, he poured some red wine for you, and when you were about to thank him, he just strolled away. The situation was rather unconventional, to say the least, and you didn't really know what to do, maybe just leave?

"Patrick, I think we both need to cool off a bit...right?" you sipped at your wine, waiting for his answer, but he continued to ignore you. "I'm going to finish my drink and probably go home."

"Whatever." Was all he said, standing with his back to your face, clearly thinking about something. 

Upset, you stifled a sad gasp and took the glass before getting up. When you reached his white couch to have a look at your dress for distraction, you suddenly heard his challenging voice:

"You want to know who Evilyn is, don't you?"

Paralyzed, you almost choke on your wine. After coughing a little, you turned to see him standing near the coffee table with his hands in his pockets. This was getting serious.

"I don't understand, why do you ask?"

Patrick chuckled loudly and shook his head in disbelief. "Stop acting like a fool, Cupcake. I know you want this, I can even feel it," his face grimaced a bit dangerously while his eyes were getting darker by the second. "You've wanted it since we left the boutique, that's why you started acting like a bitch."

Trembling with burning rage, you squeezed the glass, almost breaking it. "I'm not in the mood for scenes, you know," you countered, not even noticing that you took a few confident steps toward him. "When I leave, you can bring Evelyn, Courtney, Meredith, whoever… and confront them for as long as you want!"

"Or maybe we can all have some fun together, huh?" he drawled the last words, enjoying the sight of your angry expression. "There's plenty of me to go around."

Scowling, you wanted to spit in his face, or slap him, or both. But instead, you just smiled and that was a little unexpected for him. "You're sick, Patrick. And I feel really sorry for you."

After saying that, you turned away from him to pick up the dress – you wanted to leave this place as soon as possible, so you even forgot about the glass in your hand.

"Of the two of us, you are the one who really needs some grief," his voice hurt you like a slow-acting poison, it was excruciating. Before Bateman returned to the kitchen, he added, "Evelyn is my fiancée, and has been all along. What an unpleasant surprise?"

A loud sound of broken glass echoed through the living room as soon as you heard his last words. It was a real miracle that the wine didn't splash onto the luxurious fabric of his white couch, but you didn't really care at that moment, with your heart beating so crazy in your chest. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and stood still, not hearing Patrick's footsteps behind you.  

'Damn, that glass must have cost a fortune.'

"Cupcake..."

"I know!" You cut him off, raising your trembling hands in the air. "I'll return the money...just tell me how much it costs?"

'Don't cry. Please, don't cry!' But you did, and when you felt his warm hand wrap around your forearm, you tried to push him away, yelping:

"Give me...give me something to clean the floor!"

"(Y/n), calm down! You're bleeding." 

"What?" you gasped, opening your eyes wide before looking down at your feet to see blood running down your ankle as a sharp piece of glass sank into your soft skin. Only then did you realize you were injured, a sharp pain hitting your brain like a lightning strike. “Oh, God…I thought it was w-wine…” You stammered as that was the end point for your nervous system.

With no more waiting, Bateman carefully took you in his arms to lift you up. Sobbing, you let him carry you into the bathroom and sat on the edge of his beautiful black tub. Gently, he removed your shoes and stretched out your bruised leg to assess the damage.

"Is it that bad?" You asked him in a shaky voice, trying not to look down at the wound. 

"No, but it would be better if you stopped flinching." He insisted, releasing your leg and going to the sink to get antiseptic, tweezers, bandages and cotton pads. 

As Patrick knelt before you, holding a pair of tweezers, time seemed to freeze for you, but then you screamed from the itching pain as he carefully pulled the shard of glass from your ankle.

"Mmmh," you mumbled through your palm when he pressed a cotton pad soaked in antiseptic. "Shit…I am so clumsy and reckless..."

"You are," Bateman murmured as he wrapped a bandage around your leg. Every move he made was very gentle and accurate. "But still, you are mine."

"No, I'm not," you struggled to free yourself from his grip, but his hands held your leg very tightly. "We both know that's not true..."

Shivering, you peered down at him as he remained on his knee beside you. Almost immediately, his hazel eyes locked with yours, mesmerizing as always. "Why is it always so difficult with you?"

“Ask yourself.”

The moment you attempted to get up, you almost fell on the floor, but Patrick caught you in his arms at the last second.

"Patrick, let me go..." you pushed him into his chest to get some distance, but he didn't even move. "I will leave and forget everything that happened between us. Just like you wanted!"

"I never said I wanted to!" he growled, holding you closer so you could almost feel his fast heartbeat. "Why can't you just be a good girl and accept what I give you?"

"Oh, you've already given me enough, believe me!"

Annoyed, Bateman just shook his head before pressing a finger to your lips, silencing you and taking your breath away. 

'No, no, no. Not again'

You swallowed hard as you felt his thumb slide up to your cheek to wipe away your salty tears. 

'Stop.'

"Cupcake."

'His voice, his scent, his brawny body.' 

"Look at me," Patrick whispered sweetly, and you felt yourself going limp in his strong arms, so you obeyed and let him kiss your temple. "You're driving me crazy and I hate it...because I'm so fucking obsessed with you!"

One sharp breath and his lips were on yours, forcing your hands to claw at his jacket, but Bateman only pulled you closer, deepening the kiss as his wet tongue played with yours. Panting against his mouth, you couldn't help but run your fingers through his soft hair, making it look so messy, but Patrick didn't care. Slowly, he lifted you up a bit to set you down on the sink opposite his bathtub, peppering your neck with little pecks.

"Daddy."

Just one simple word could turn this man into a savage beast, you knew it, but you couldn't stop yourself as your inner nature yearned for him and it felt like you were meant for each other, two broken souls finally found each other.

"Cupcake." He kissed your lips briefly before moving down to your cleavage and unbuttoning your shirt, his hot breath tickling your bare skin.

Everything about him was so intoxicating that your clouded mind refused to function at all and now you couldn't hear your inner voice begging you to stop. 

Quivering, you arched your back a little to give him better access, and immediately you heard him growl against your collarbone as he finally undid your shirt. Patrick didn't even bother to remove your bra - he just pulled it down, revealing your taut nipples; he licked his lips at the sight of them and then his greedy mouth was already devouring one of them.

"A-awwww," you mewled, hugging his shoulders as you literally melted under his touch. "Mmm, please!"

"Please what?" He looked at you, twisting your hard peak between his skilled fingers. 

"I..." you hiccupped from the way Bateman spread your legs as he nestled into you with pure possession, groping your hip and licking your neck. "I... don't know... Gosh!"

This was pure madness, what was consuming your mind, with every kiss he made, breaking all your barriers, the more you tried to resist it, the more it hit you back. Panting, you threw your head back and felt your eyes begin to water again as his strong hands caressed your trembling little body. Never in your life had you felt so lost. Never.

"Relax, sweetheart," Patrick mused into your ear as he slid his palm between your legs. And of course you were so shamelessly wet that you could flood his floor. "I got you."

"I can't, a-aah..." You sighed, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Yes, you can," Bateman planted another sloppy kiss on your neck before grabbing your hand to press it against the hard bulge in his pants. "I couldn't stop thinking..." he paused, drinking in your stifled moans as he gave your clit a few slight rubs. "Do you think about me, Cupcake? I know you do..."

"Mm-mhh," your hands roamed desperately down his broad back, fumbling with the smooth fabric of his suit. "And I...ahh-I know you don't think about me..."

A loud whimper fell from your lips as he shoved two fingers into your dripping pussy, almost causing you to bump your head against the mirror behind, but he prevented it by wrapping his hand around your neck.

"You're mistaken," his low groan echoed against the walls of his bathroom, sending shivers down your spine and coaxing your inner muscles to spasm around his fingers as they mercilessly rammed in and out of your throbbing cunt. "Because you know nothing about me," Patrick curled his fingers to stimulate your most sensitive spot, gritting his teeth as his aching cock was about to explode with ravenous desire. "Now be a sweet girl like you always are and..."

"Owwww!" you screamed in sharp pain as he accidentally pushed on your wound. “It hurts!”

"Fuck, I forgot...damn it!" He cursed and removed his hand from your leg.

Seizing the moment of his confusion, you slipped out of his embrace and nearly ran for the door, and thank God it was open, because when you heard his almost furious groan, your heart skipped a beat:

"Come back!" 

"No, it can't be like this," you leaned against the door, holding out a hand defensively. "Not after what you said..."

Trembling, you watched him breathe heavily through his red nostrils, his wild gaze seeming to burn you alive as his self-control was about to snap. Scared, you weren't sure what to expect from him next, so you decided to leave this place right now, while it was still not too late.

Quickly, you walked into his living room and grabbed the damn dress, trying not to think about the broken glass and spilled wine. To be fair, you thought Patrick was going to chase you or threaten you with punishment, but none of that happened as he stayed in his bathroom. It was suspicious, but you would think about it later. 

As you were about to leave, you walked past the open door to the bathroom and told yourself to just go and not look back. But when you reached the front door, you froze and sobbed - your heart sinking while your mind was waving a red flag.

'Just leave, please!'

Huffing, you turned and walked back to the open door. The scene you saw was not what you expected, it simply broke your heart - Bateman was standing still by the sink, leaning on his hands with his head bowed.

"Patrick."

"You're still here?" He asked without looking at you.

"I'll go with you tomorrow...but I'm not doing it for you," your voice wavered, but you didn't allow yourself to sound weak. "I just wanted to make that clear."

And then you left him alone in his super luxurious apartment on Manhattan's Upper West Side. No matter how hard you tried to hold back your tears, they kept slipping down your cheeks. Even when you were in the cab on your way home, your soul was still aching because it seemed like the wounds he made couldn't be healed.

When the night came, there were only a few windows with lights on, and Patrick's bedroom window was one of them.

Irritated, Bateman lay on his bed while a blonde girl sucked him off, bobbing her head up and down at a fast tempo. There was no denying that she was trying her best to give him as much pleasure as possible, but he felt nothing, literally no emotions – only the dark void inside his mind.

"(Y/n), you're doing everything wrong...not the way I like it!" Patrick grumbled, pulling on the girl's hair.

"Who?" She asked confusedly, looking up at him. "My name is Meredith, in case you forgot, honey."

Bateman just laughed and carelessly pushed her down, forcing her to continue. "Shut your fucking mouth and suck my dick. You stupid whore!"

Meredith was making too many noises which annoyed him so much as he was trying to concentrate on dreaming of you—your beautiful face, your innocent sparkling eyes. Although this girl was very pretty, definitely 'his type', there was not a single trace of you and he thought he would never reach his high.

"Mmhm, Patrick…Maybe you will fuck me already?" 

"Maybe," he sighed, watching her laying on her back with undisguised excitement, but then he frowned in a weird disgust. "No, get on your knees. I can't see your fucking face."

"W-what? What's wrong with you today?Ah!"

Angrily, he slapped her hip and rolled her onto her stomach. Without any preparation, he bottomed out, closing his eyes and thinking about the way you twitched every time he thrust inside you. Speeding up his pounding, Patrick finally felt his orgasm building up inside his body when she suddenly moaned. "Oh, yeah! Daddy, it feels so good!" 

That was not even rage, it was something beyond that. Brutally, he squeezed her neck, almost choking her, and growled near her ear as he leaned down. "Never call me that! Understand?" he yanked her against the bed, still clutching her throat, and only when she was on the verge of asphyxia he released her, fucking her harder and gritting his teeth. "Fucking bitch, you should thank me for not killing you."

Camera flashes never stopped clicking in front of your eyes, you almost thought it was impossible to hide from them. They were literally everywhere, as were the countless supermodels and rich yuppies who looked at them without shame, their hungry eyes ready to eat them alive.

"Hey, are you trying to get lost or what?" 

With a soft gasp, you stopped and turned around to see Patrick's irritated face as you walked through the huge hall, every part of which gave you strong vibes of luxury lifestyle.

"I don't think you'd notice my absence anyway," you replied, walking straight until his arm wrapped around your waist, causing your lungs to spasm from the sudden lack of oxygen. "Patrick?"

"Listen to me," he pulled you closer and leaned down to your ear, whispering in a serious tone. "There are a lot of bad people here who came for more than just fashion."

"Even worse than you?"

He scowled, but continued. "Much worse, believe me."

"Don't pretend you care," you tried to walk away, brushing his hand aside, but he tightened his grip. "Get off me!"

"You're too naive and innocent. I don't want you getting into trouble while you're here with me." Tensed, Bateman stroked your back to calm you down a bit as he noticed the people around starting to stare at you.

"That's very sweet, but I don't need your 'protection'...I'm pretty sure you came here for the same reason as all the other yuppies." 

"I didn't ask for your opinion, okay? Let's get to our seats," he said possessively, easily cradling you in his arms, covering your small frame like a cocoon. "We have the best seats, by the way. Right next to the runaway."

"Amazing," you murmured as he led you through the endless crowds. "Not a single model will escape your gaze."

"That's right."

Frowning, you were about to slip out of his grip when suddenly someone ran into you, stomping painfully on your feet.

"Ouch!" Your loud whimper caused Patrick to turn in your direction, but then he froze as he looked over your shoulder at the blonde girl who was immediately apologizing. 

"Oh God, I'm so sorry..." the familiar voice hit you like a bolt of lightning. "I can be so clumsy," she touched her forehead before locking her lost gaze with Bateman's. "Patrick?"

That was Courtney. There was no doubt it was her, especially when she smiled at him so brightly it could easily outshine the Sun. 

"Hello, Courtney. It's so good to see you!" Patrick crooned gallantly, his arms finally releasing your shivering body. 

But even if a few minutes ago you wanted him to take his hands off you, now you were feeling a bit upset that he actually did.

"How could I miss this?" She asked flirtatiously, completely ignoring your presence. "Where are your seats?"

"Yeah, where are they?" You blurted out abruptly, making them both almost jump. "I just don't want to interrupt your sweet conversation and..."

You almost hissed from the sudden pain as you felt his firm hand on your ass, pinching your buttocks. His face didn't change, though, as he continued to grin haughtily, his eyes never ceasing to roam over Courtney's pretty body. With slight irritation, Bateman approached your neck and whispered in your ear how to get to your seats, then nibbled briefly on your earlobe as a sign of his displeasure, but you didn't pay any attention.

"Thank you, Daddy." You uttered the last word in the most disgustingly sweet way you could and strolled away without looking back. No matter how much you wanted to, you just couldn't.

Patrick wasn't lying—the seats were really so close to the runway that you could probably see every little detail on the models' clothes.

After about fifteen minutes, it was getting dark, which meant that the show was about to start. You fidgeted in your seat, trying to find a comfortable position, but it just didn't work, your butt was still sore from Bateman's pinch.

As soon as you remembered him, you heard his voice as he moved across the seats to reach his place. Patrick grinned at you smugly as he sat down next to you, crossing one leg over the other and fixing his hair.

"You must be very pleased with yourself, Cupcake?" He asked mockingly.

You scowled and pretended not to understand what he was saying as the music turned up really loud: "I can't hear you."

Patrick just chuckled softly, put a hand on the back of your seat and moved closer. "I said you look so beautiful today."

'God, what a jerk.' 

"Can't say the same about you."

"Uh, such an angry little kitten," Bateman laughed, looking at you from under his beautiful lashes. "I don't think I'll survive this."

"You really think I care?"

And then the show started, unfortunately not allowing you to finish what you were about to say. As expected, the models looked gorgeous and the clothes they were wearing were absolutely amazing—you had to admit that. Although you tried your best not to notice the way Patrick was staring at the girls on the runway, you had to claw at your skin when one of them winked at him without any shame.

"This is the grace I've been telling you about," he bowed closer to you to make sure you heard what he was saying. "The perfect example of feminine beauty."

You smiled ironically and replied without looking at him: "The real beauty begins when the boys come out."

Your sudden statement elicited a muffled groan from his chest, but Bateman simply nodded and turned away from you. From that moment on, he was almost silent, and it was a little strange, but as the male models appeared on the runway, you stopped analyzing and just enjoyed the handsome men walking back and forth in front of you. Everything was fine until one of the models found your eyes in the crowd and smiled at you. And of course Patrick wouldn't miss it.

"Do you like him?"

"W-who?" You stammered, feeling his warm hand on your knee.

"The model who just walked by," he murmured, stroking your exposed skin under the hem of your dress, sensing the way you tensed under his touch. "Maybe you should go talk to him after the show."

Shit, you couldn't believe he meant it or... you just didn't want to believe it?

"I'm not like you, Patrick," you chastised, feeling so damned angry as his words cut painfully through your heart. "You sometimes forget that not everyone is like that..."

"Like what?" Bateman scoffed with a raised eyebrow.

"You know what I mean." You added with a teasing smile and turned away from him, but he immediately grabbed your face, forcing you to squeal from the unexpectedness. 

"No, I don't," he scoffed, pushing on your jaw. "C'mon, Cupcake, tell me."

The surrounding darkness came in handy in this situation, not to mention the fact that almost everyone was focused on watching the show, so Bateman felt pretty confident knowing that no one would notice your little fight here.

"Get off!" You hissed, wrapping both your hands around his wrist in an attempt to pry it away.

"Awww, look at those little hands," he pulled you closer, so you could feel his hot breath on your trembling lips. "You are so small and yet so brave. It fascinates me, I won't lie."

You froze for a second as his words caught you off guard. Blinking several times, you didn't even notice that his large palm was now gently stroking your chin, moving up to your cheek and ending this little intimate moment by pressing lightly on your half-opened lips.

Actually, that was the worst thing he could do at that moment, because his illusory softness and tenderness hurts like hell. It was like a sweet candy with a sharp blade inside.

Just as you realized how close your faces were, you tried to pull away, but Patrick's grip was too tight. Fixing you in place by your chin, he captured your mouth with his, hungrily relishing your taste, your shiver, your muffled gasp against his lips. Bateman tested your limits so masterfully that every little move he made was as precise as his side profile. Slowly he wrapped one hand around your neck while another was already resting on your waist, the kiss you shared was something more than just physical contact, and you let yourself sink into the flow of emotions, closing your eyes and letting him kiss deeper. You almost moaned, but the surrounding music of the show drowned out any obscene sounds that tried to escape your swollen lips.

His strong, warm tongue danced along yours, not even giving you a chance to take the lead, so you just opened your mouth wider and let your noses brush together, forcing your hearts to beat in a crazy rhythm.

God, this man was the darkest curse... the most delightful blessing.

After a few seconds, the people around started applauding so loudly that you had to open your eyes just as the lights came on. The strange delusion that was like a white veil behind your vision began to fade, and only then did you and Patrick realize that you were both staring at each other, your mouths still pressed together.

A second, two seconds.

It seemed as if you were both waiting to see who would break away first, and as soon as you heard someone coughing behind your back, you pulled away from Patrick's strong arms, but you knew that you only managed to break free because he let you.

"Patrick! I thought I wouldn't see you here!" A familiar female voice echoed from above and you didn't even bother to turn around to see another bimbo Bateman was hanging out with.

Shit, what if she saw what you were doing?

At first you thought Patrick would pretend he didn't know you or something, but instead Bateman smiled smugly and put his hand on the back of your chair.

Annoyed, but still as majestic as a lion, he looked up at the blonde and said quickly: "Hi, Meredith."

Her face turned into a sad grimace, though she pretended that Bateman's indifference didn't upset her. Obviously, Meredith was outraged and needed someone to take her anger out on. 

With a haughty grin, she scoffed and almost stepped on your foot. "I don't understand, how can a man like you go out with someone like... her?"

Damn, that was such an obvious insult that it didn't even trigger a single emotion, you just gave her a deadly stare when you finally met her little eyes and you could swear that you saw a trace of fear in them.

"I asked myself the same question," you muttered suddenly, getting up from your seat and looking at Patrick, whose perfect eyebrows now frowned, especially when he understood what you were you doing—he squeezed the back of the chair until his knuckles turned white. "Have a nice evening." 

With those words, you quickly walked away, and you were so damn glad that Bateman decided not to follow you, because with every step you took, your eyes got more and more watery. 

"How did she even get here? Ugly people like that should stay at home to avoid traumatizing anyone." Meredith hissed as she watched your little figure moving away from them. "Who is she?" 

Patrick chuckled, then did his classic move of parrying the question with his natural charm. "Oh, you're so mean," he muttered as he watched the blonde take your seat next to him. Playfully, Bateman pinched her nose and they both started to giggle, no matter how disgusted he felt himself right now, he wouldn't admit that your sudden leaving made him sad. "Such an angry little bitch."

You couldn't remember how you found your way to the ladies' room, but as soon as you stepped up to the sink and looked in the mirror, you scowled and clenched your fists from the sharp pain in your chest. 

"I... I hate you so much!" You hissed in a trembling voice, not really knowing who you were addressing, yourself or Patrick, who was probably already taking the blonde bimbo to his place.

His womanizer nature was not a secret, so why did it hurt so fucking much? 

Depressed by your weakness towards this man, you wanted to smash the mirror to stop seeing this sad face covered with tears, but you heard someone coming, so you just froze in place with your trembling hands in the air. A model walked past you and accidentally bumped your shoulder.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" She squealed and opened the fauster to wash her hands.

Even though you understood that she didn't do it on purpose, it made you so mad that you almost ran out of the bathroom, loudly slamming the door behind you.

The moment you realized that you couldn't remember how to get out of here made all your insides cramp like a spring, and you thought you were just going to fall to the floor from a sudden fear of being lost. 'Fuck, not now, not now!'

Quivering, you looked around, searching for... Patrick? But instead of him, you could only see an endless number of beautiful models strolling here and there. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath to calm yourself, but when that didn't help, your legs seemed to give way, and you slipped against the wall until you rested on the floor. This panic attack was nothing compared to the ones you had before, your heart pounding painfully against your chest as if trying to burst through it. Things got worse when you felt the lack of oxygen as you literally suffocated with panic and your body burned from the inside out.

The group of models stood by and noticed your small, shivering form, rocking back and forth with your hands wrapped around your head. 

"Hey! Are you okay?" One of them approached you and crouched down beside you, trying to help you up, but you refused.

"Don't touch her, Lizzy! Maybe she's on drugs. Let's go already!"

"No, wait... she clearly needs help," the models looked at each other, one of them trying to pat your shoulder to calm you down, while her friend tapped her foot annoyingly. "Are you in pain? Did someone hurt you?"

"N-no," you finally mumbled, opening your eyes to see that not only two, but many of these girls were already gathered around you. "I— I'm fine, I'm sorry... I'm just..." 

Lost.

Jesus, that was so embarrassing that the words just stuck in your throat like a lump, and now you felt like a little girl who got lost in the big mall when she decided to run away from her parents. 

"What's going on here?" That voice made you almost faint. "Get away!"

A bit roughly, Bateman pulled the model away from you and leaned down to your shivering form.

"HEY! We were just trying to help!"

"Go away! All of you!" He turned and barked at all the girls watching the scene. "Get the hell out of here, there is nothing to look at!"

Your head was spinning, at first you couldn't even believe it was him, hiding you from everyone with his broad, tall figure, as if he was trying to… protect you?

"Cupcake? Cupcake, look at me," his worried cooing made you submit, making you want to believe that he was really concerned about you. Gently, he cupped your face and stroked your slightly disheveled hair. "What happened?"

At first, you didn't say anything — you were paralyzed, mesmerized by his brown eyes, which were gliding desperately up and down your body, checking every little part of it. 

"Who did this to you?"

'You did.'

But he would never know.

"You came," you replied briefly. "Why?" 

Patrick frowned at your answer and let out a tired sigh. "I've been looking for you since you left, because this place is huge, and I didn't want you to get into trouble, but," he paused and brushed your tears away concisely. "But it looks like I'm too late. God, you're so reckless," he shook his head and stood up.

As soon as Patrick did that, something clicked in your head, and you didn't even notice that you were already on your feet as you snuggled up to him and buried yourself in his arms with a deadly grip.

"Please, don't go!" You begged in a trembling voice, hugging him tighter. "Don't leave me!"

Shocked, Bateman didn't know how to react, his arms dropped motionlessly, but then he carefully placed them on your back, drawing invisible lines along your spine. 

"I have to get our coats. You came here in your coat, did you forget?"

Blinking several times as you looked into his eyes, you replied softly: "Yeah… I did."

Patrick couldn't help but smile adorably. "Wait for me here, (y/n). I'll lead you outside, you'll feel better there." He explained and distanced himself from you. "Don't go anywhere! Got it?"

You nodded, and only then did he walk away. Without even looking back, he disappeared into the crowd.

Bateman was right, once you left the building your condition improved, and you could finally breathe in the fresh air, filling your lungs with the oxygen they so desperately needed. A cool wind blew into your face, making you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the emotions you were experiencing right now — the fact that Patrick had come for you, that he was looking for you, left you with no choice but to stifle a loud scream that you wanted so bad to let out.

Bateman remained silent, standing a short distance behind you, puffing on his cigar and watching the smoke rise from it.

"Has this ever happened to you before?" His question came out of nowhere.

You shrugged, but didn't turn around. "Yeah... it happens sometimes, especially in crowded places."

Bateman didn't say anything, but you could feel the tension between the two of you. Without a rush, he moved closer to you, watching you hug yourself — the difference in your sizes made him gulp, but he didn't dare touch you. Not yet.

"Why didn't you tell me then?" He whispered above your ear before smoking his cigar.

"Because it doesn't matter."

"It does."

"No!" You blurted out and turned round to face him. "It… doesn't."

The way he looked at you was enough to make you hold your breath and take a small step back, but the next moment you were already trapped in his sturdy arms, the sharp smell of snuff filling the air around you as he blew off several rings of smoke.

"You're not going anywhere now." His voice lowered, and you closed your eyes from the astonishing sensation of being caught in his strong hands, feeling his hot breath on your face. 

"Patrick," you gasped and hugged him back, surprising him for a second. "Thank you for... for everything."

A loud cacophony of laughter and rumbling got your attention and you looked over his shoulder to see Meredith and her friends coming towards you. She seemed to spot you even faster than you spotted her, and now her eyes were bloodshot red.

"Can you," you stammered, feeling ashamed. "Can you kiss me?"

What the hell was going on inside your head?

Anyway, you didn't have time to reflect on this, because Patrick wasn't the type of person who needs to be asked twice. The moment his soft lips met yours, the ground under your feet seemed to disappear, so he had to hold you with both hands, not caring that his expensive cigar fell down. Even if you would blame yourself for that, all you could think about now was his strong hands sliding along your small form, outlining your curves as you let him do it, while he used his wet tongue to make you go limp in his embrace.

Sneakily, Patrick admired your beautiful face with his half-open eyes, probably not even realizing how much you meant to him, how deep you were rooted in his soul. But did he even have a soul in the first place?

When you broke the kiss, you didn't see Meredith or her friends anymore. Bateman noticed you were looking for something, so he turned to look at the direction of your gaze.

"Cupcake?" He was confused when he didn't see anyone. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Uh, yeah! I just thought I saw a familiar face," you lied, trying to act natural. "I... I should probably go home."

Patrick gave you a suspicious glance, still holding you in his arms. "Actually, I don't want to leave you alone after what happened."

"What do you mean?" you asked, a little disappointed. "I said I'm fine."

"Shhh," he pressed a finger to your lips, and you felt the smooth, cold leather of his glove. "I know you like to be bratty, but now isn't a good time. You really scared me."

Sighing, you dropped your head and covered his hand with both of yours. "I'm sorry, I... I didn't want you to see me like that."

To be honest, you didn't want anyone to see you like this because you hated looking weak in front of people. Especially in front of people like him, because it would automatically give him another trump card to play around with.

"Let me take you home." Bateman mumbled briefly, fixing your hair and then rubbing your neck to relax you.

"Aren't you afraid you'll have a heart attack coming to my place? It's not like your apartment in Manhattan."

He chuckled and pinched your cheek, leaving you confused and offended.

"Of course it's not," Patrick grinned and poked you in the nose. "I don't have any expectations."

You frowned and tried to push him back, but he only pressed you closer, nuzzling your neck and leaving a small hickey on it for which you were not ready — your muffled whimper made him sneer even louder.

"That's a pretty exhaustive answer," he didn't even allow you to say anything in return as he kissed you again, but this time much more passionately. "I'll get us a cab."

This man was like a hurricane that tossed everything around and no matter how many walls you built — he would break them down, one after the other, because nature couldn't be stopped. It seemed that you were completely disarmed against your own nature, because it was calling for him, it was pushing you into his possession, and you were already so tired of fighting these feelings.

There was something special about New York at night, when millions of lights were shining like diamonds, reflecting on the water of the Hudson River and taking your breath away with the feeling of being so small in such a huge city, where the numerous soaring skyscrapers were almost touching the sky.

Tiredly, you closed your eyes, sighed, and leaned on the armrest of the car door, watching the scenery change behind the window. Patrick listened to the music, as he always did, his hands stroking your knee from time to time, but you could hardly feel it, since you were completely overwhelmed by emotions, feelings and thoughts. It was hard to believe that even after all that had happened, you still let him take you home, knowing damn well that he wouldn't just stay in the cab when it stopped at your place. 

Just as you entered your apartment and turned on the lights, you heard his slightly nervous chuckle and little comment.

“Mmm, it's pretty clean here.”

His words almost made you choke. “Did you really think that my place would look like a dump just because I don't live in Manhattan?”

“I didn't mean that.” Bateman murmured behind you, following you carefully down the hall. “Where can I put my coat?”

“Why do you ask? I don't remember inviting you here,” You took off your coat and put it on the rack next to him. “Aren't you afraid your coat will stink  of poverty?”

Patrick couldn't help but chuckle in a husky voice. “You're funny, Cupcake.”

'And why did I trust this man at all? What was so special about him?'

You didn't say anything, only a thin smile ran over your tired face as you turned around and saw him putting his coat over yours. After that, you continued to walk to your small kitchen, and as soon as you reached the table next to the window, your eyes began to search for something.

“Did you lose something?” He asked, leaning against the wall and hiding his hands in his pockets.

“N-no,” you stammered, as if he had caught you doing something bad. God, he was embarrassing you in your own apartment! “Just … It's been a while since I've had guests.”

Patrick hummed something incoherently and crossed his arms over his broad chest, then moved lazily to the kitchen counter when something caught his eye while you were busy gathering all the stuff on the kitchen table — including some books and various papers from work.

With undisguised interest, Bateman picked up the medicine to take a closer look at its name. “Don't you know these things can cause addiction?”

“What?” You turned to see him examining your sedatives.

“How long have you been taking them?” He asked again, his perfect eyebrows knitted together now.

You sighed tiredly and walked over to him, holding out your hand. “Not too long. Now give it to me, please.”

“I can bring you much better medication than this, since it obviously doesn't work,” he stated in a stern voice, without looking at you. “Because the panic attacks are still kicking your pretty ass.”

His words made your jaw clench, but you didn't even try to snatch the medication from him, instead you just let out a soft groan of annoyance, crossed your arms and rolled your eyes.

“That's very kind of you, but I have to decline your offer.” You replied, watching him shake his head in irritation. “Besides, you can only get those pills with a doctor's prescription.”

Patrick just shrugged and put the pills back on the kitchen counter.

“That's not a problem,” he quickly straightened his red tie before stepping closer to you. “I have one of the best therapists in the city.”

“Uh-huh, and the pharmacy you go to is probably one of the best, too?”

He grinned. “Sure, I usually get my meds from the one on Broadway.”

“Good for you.”

You started to saunter away from him, but his hands caught you faster than you could react. The next thing you knew, Bateman was holding you tightly against his tall, broad frame, looking down at you with obvious concern.

“Cupcake,” he murmured in a sweet voice, tracing a finger along your cheek. “I just want to help.”

Damn, this man only had to touch you a little bit and you were already lost in him. 

“Patrick, you don't have to. I—” You didn't have a chance to finish your sentence because your lips were sealed by his. 

Completely defenseless and vulnerable — that was how you felt right now, and it seemed as if he could feel it as the kiss grew deeper and more intense with each passing moment. Cautiously, you rested your hands on his shoulders before sliding them down to the lapels of his suit, fumbling with the soft material and feeling the ground disappearing beneath your feet.

'It's already too much.'

Only when you were both breathless did Patrick decide to break the kiss, but his arms were still wrapped around your waist, as if he was afraid you would disappear like a mirage. 

“You were involved in all this because of me," he paused and leaned down to you again, letting your noses rub against each other. This little physical contact made your heart flutter. “And you really made me worry.”

Bateman said it so quickly, as if he wasn't even thinking properly at that moment. Embarrassed, you shrugged a bit in his arms. No matter how hard you tried to believe this man, all you could think about now was whether you were trapped in his other manipulative, mind games.

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” you put a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating fast under your fingertips and the next second you pulled your hand away as if you got burned. “Anyway, it’s late already and you probably have some more interesting stuff to do.”

His soft chuckling was annoying but pleasant to hear. “You’re not quite hospitable, aren’t you?”

Eventually, he let you go and stepped aside, unbuttoning his jacket — that scene caused your pulse to race. 

“What are you doing?” “What does it look like?”

You crossed your arms and sighed. “Patrick, I really appreciate your help and… the show was really cool, but I doubt I would ever go back to that place again.” 'Damn it, did I actually say that?'

After Bateman removed his jacket, he carefully put it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs and tucked his sleeves. 

“You’re welcome,” he beamed with a cocky smile. “I thought you would offer me some tea, coffee or something?”

“I doubt I have anything good to your taste,” slowly, you turned away from him, as an unpleasant feeling of shame struck you right through your chest. “Mmm, I can only offer you mineral water but it’s not Apollinaris.”

“Oh, dear,” he crooned and suddenly hugged you from behind. “I didn’t expect you to have Apollinaris. Honestly.”

Gasping barely audibly, you covered his arms on your waist with your own arms and cocked your head to meet his brown eyes and for God’s sake, why did he always look so tempting, so captivating, so… magnetizing?

With a sharp breath, you managed to avoid another kiss he planned to pull you into, and it coaxed a low growl of disappointment to erupt from his half-opened lips which were so intended to collapse with yours. 

“Patrick,” you gulped when he nuzzled against your neck, leaving small wet marks along your sensitive skin. “Please, stop. Let me just bring you some water and I want to relax a bit, after… after everything that happened.”

It was kinda unexpected that Bateman decided to let you go as easy as that without even trying to overpower you like he always does.

“And what do you do to relax?"

“Hot bath.” You responded without looking at him. Annoyed, you stumbled past him to grab the meds he was inspecting a few minutes ago, and then you opened the fridge to take out the bottle of mineral water. As soon as you started to pour the water into the most beautiful glass you had, you noticed his persistent stare, which made you almost spill the water onto the kitchen counter. “What?”

“These pills are no good for you, (y/n),” his anxious tone was very unnatural, you didn’t even remember him sounding like this ever before. “Stop being stubborn.”

With a small thud, you put the glass on the table next to him and replied a bit aggressively: "I don't think they're worse than coke."

At first, Bateman just gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists, but then he took a quick sip of the mineral water, trying as hard as he could to play cool.

“Thanks.” Was all he said and that was actually not the reaction you have expected.

There was an awkward silence hanging in the air for some seconds and none of you wanted to continue this conversation, but once you tried to move his hand (that was wrapped around your forearm), his low voice engulfed you like a hot steam.

“Cupcake, I just want to make sure you won’t do anything bad.” “W-what do you mean?” You frowned in confusion and glanced at his hand before you raised your eyes to his perfect face. “Patrick, I suffer from panic attacks… not the things you're thinking of.”

“Then, go take a bath and I’ll leave after that.”

“But I’m not a child,” the more you were trying to resist him, the more your body was yearning for his touch, his large palm on your back was enough to make you forget how to breathe. “You don't owe me anything, this is my problem and I’ll handle this, just like I was doing it before.”

“To be fair, your behavior only shows how immature you are,” he crooned and traced a long, sensible line along your spine. “But, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt since you’re overwhelmed.”

At some point, you found yourself tired from trying to convince him to leave you alone, so you just nodded and quickly took your sedative before heading to the bathroom under his attentive gaze. After all, even if you even attempted to make him go away you would fail because compared to him you were so small and weak — Patrick had power over you in all ways, and he knew that. 

You were trapped in your own flat, what nonsense.

In a few minutes, you were sitting in the bath and letting the warm water bring you some relief, just like it always did. Affected by sedatives, you didn’t even remember whether you closed the bathroom door or not, but being honest, you didn’t really care, because even if Patrick came here he wouldn’t see anything new. 

The bitter aftertaste of what happened made you feel like shit, and you really didn't know how to find a way out from it. As if it was not enough for you to be dependent on Patrick (you owe him a lot of money), now you gave him more weaknesses that he could potentially use against you. 

'Excellent!'

Hugging your knees, you burst in tears — salty tears that were falling into the water, leaving small circles on it. Before now, you didn’t even realize how devastated you were. You closed your eyes for a second and you drifted off almost instantly, and with each passing moment, your body was submerging into the water more and more.

Meanwhile, Bateman was sitting on the little couch in your living room, which he suddenly found pretty cozy, though he checked if everything was clean enough before he dared to take a seat. Did he really think that people outside Manhattan used to live in dirty, trashy apartments? Well, maybe he did, since he didn’t even remember when was the last time he was in such places.

Ever since you left, Patrick had been fighting the temptation to go through your things to find something interesting, which he would of course use for his own interests. But instead, he picked up one of your books from the coffee table, and as he did so, a small piece of paper fell out. Squinting suspiciously, Bateman leaned down to grab it, only to almost crumple it when he saw your handwriting —  the paper was completely covered with your notes, and they were all the same phrase — "If I want to be loved as I am, I have to be willing to love others as they are." Patrick couldn't count how many times you had written that, but each line he read evoked something strange in him — the unraveling feeling that urged him to rip the paper, to crumple it. Is it compassion that he was so afraid of?

Closing his eyes for a moment, Bateman took a deep breath and put the paper back in the book, no matter how much he wanted to destroy it or forget what he had just read. After that, he checked his Rolex and noticed that it had been quite a while since you had left. Slowly, he got up from the couch and went to the bathroom. His 'sixth sense' had never failed him before, so he decided to rely on it and check on you.

Patrick didn’t knock once he noticed that the door was not closed, he just stepped in, looking for you.

“Cupcake, are you—”

A chilling shock swept over him when he saw only the top of your head above the water. Without a second thought, he ran across the bathroom and knelt down beside the tub to pull you out of the water, and the moment he did, you began to cough, clinging to his arms and desperately gasping for air.

“Pat-Patrick,” you were shaking so badly, so he had to hold you in one place, pressing you against his solid chest. “I don’t know how that happened… I… I didn’t want this I—” “Shh, (y/n),” Bateman cooed at you in order to calm you down, but he wasn't any less scared than you. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

Trembling, you looked up at him — your eyes so red from tears, your heart beating like a broken alarm-clock. “I think I ruined your suit… I’m so sorry!”

Appalled, you tried to break free but Patrick didn’t let you move, his strong arms were holding you like tight ropes. Damn, he was so angry — he could sense his blood boiling inside his veins, forcing his jaw to clench in a silent growl. He was so fucking mad at himself. 

How could he let this happen? 

As this question ran through his bewildered mind, he froze in fear. He didn't know if he was talking about letting you nearly drown in your own bathtub or letting you take roots on his broken soul. Maybe that was the reason you two had bonded, two broken souls seeking for something that would stop their pain, something that would bring them freedom from a burdened life. But how could he help you when every day he was fighting his dark side, the side you didn't know about yet? The side he wished you would never meet.

Never.

"God... I'm so stupid." You cried out, interrupting his train of thought and bringing him back to reality. 

"Shh," Bateman husked, cupping your face. "Stop talking!" He sighed and looked into your blurry eyes, breathing so heavily that it was almost painful. "Just don't say anything right now."

Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe the sedative had a side effect on you, but as soon as he tried to pull you out of the tub completely, your hand slipped down his chest to his groin — your sneaky fingers instantly playing with the buckle of his belt, causing a shaky groan to escape his lips. Dazed, you moved your hand lower to feel the outline of his thick cock getting harder under your touch, but as you were about to unzip his pants, his firm hand stopped you, confusing your cloudy mind and inducing you to raise your eyes to meet his. He could swear no one had ever looked at him like that — so innocently, yet so sinfully. 

"Cupcake, you don't want this," Patrick murmured, removing your hand. "Trust me."

"I do want this!" You replied in a trembling voice, pouting like a child.

"You're so fucking lost right now, you just don't understand," he manhandled you out of the tub and you almost punched him in his beautiful face, but Bateman paid no attention to your attempt to hit him. "Towels, where are they?"

Huffing, he lifted you up, and only then did you calm down, wrapping your hands and legs around him as securely as you could, like you were afraid of falling off the roof of the skyscraper. 

After you pointed at the bathroom counter, Bateman carefully moved towards it to take some big, white towel and wrap it around you — he was drying you off so gently and attentively, it almost made you cry again. 

Emotions were overtaking you.

Patrick didn't even say a word when he was done, he just got another dry towel and swaddled you in it like in a cocoon before carrying you out of the bathroom bridal style. Somehow, he managed to find the way to your bedroom, but once he saw your bed, he scowled and remarked: “Jesus, this bed is so small.”

“I love my bed.” You murmured in reply, hugging his neck and pressing yourself closer against his warm body.

Bateman couldn't help but chuckle in amusement, giving you a brief forehead kiss and sitting you down on the bed. As soon as you lost physical contact with him, you leaned on your elbows, watching him turn around and walk away.

“Patrick! Please, don’t go!” 

Your words echoed inside his head like the most sacred plea, they made him stop and looked in your direction. “I need to remove my clothes since they’re pretty damp,” he checked himself, with a visible disgust on his face. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Be a good girl, and just wait for me here, okay?”

“Fine.” You mumbled and took the plushy bunny which was resting on your bed next to you.

This scene made him chuckle before he left your bedroom. Now you were completely alone with your thoughts, they didn't wait a second to start eating you from the inside again. With your eyes closed, you lay on your back and began to count.

One, two, three…

What if he lied saying that he would return? Gosh, you wanted him to leave the moment you came here, so why were you getting so upset thinking about him leaving you alone just as you asked him for?

Four, five, six…

The inner voice kept reminding you how many times Patrick has hurt you, how many times he made you cry, how many times you felt like a toy in his hands. You gritted your teeth, pressing your hands against your head to stop thinking.

Seven, eight, nine…

How many times have you promised yourself that you would break out from this circle of lies, pain and suffering? 

“Stop it!” You whimpered, shutting your eyes as firm as you could until the tears started to form.

Ten.

“Stop what?” His voice—it was like a lifeline, like a light in the end of the tunnel, it was everything you needed here and now.

The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was his almost naked form, namely his toned tiddies and his mouth watering V-line, not to mention his perfect abs and the small trail of hair below his navel.

“For one second I thought you would just leave.” You looked into his hazel eyes, which were partly covered by his messy, brown hair.

“In wet clothes?” He giggled and stepped closer to your bed. It was so hard to ignore the bulge in his tight white underwear, but you tried your best not to stare at it. “Feeling better?"

“Yes, I think y-yes,” you swallowed hard when Bateman sat on the edge of your small bed and drew an invisible line across your ankle. “Can I… ask you for something?”

“You can try.” His voice got lower, sending shivers down your spine.

Panting, you uncovered yourself, putting the towel aside and letting him admire the view of your beautiful body, a pleasure he gladly took, his thirsty eyes roaming all over your curves, especially your full breasts and your inviting neck.

“What do you want, Cupcake?” His hand slides up to your hip, teasing the sensitive skin and making you gasp from need. “Tell me.”

“I need you,” you bit your lower lip, frowning from how embarrassed you were. “I n-need you more than ever.”

With no rush, Bateman bent down to your belly to press a brief kiss which elicited a soft moan to fall from your shaky throat. “Show me where you need me.”

You were about to lost it at any second, as the mind-blowing passion was crashing over you like a fucking tsunami, and you didn’t even know if you would survive this. 

Could that be the moment of no return for both of you?

Stifling a moan, you took his big palm and guided between your opened legs—the sound of his fingers sliding along your oozed folds made you arched your back and you thought your heart would break out from your chest. Your heavy breathes filled up the room, and once you felt his hot lips on your mound, you nearly squeaked, creasing the sheets beneath you.

Patrick was enjoying every second of this moment, savoring the taste of your skin, reveling in all your little salacious noises when he encircled his arms around your legs and swiped his tongue over your throbbing clit.

That was the last drop of your resistance and you couldn't control it anymore, throwing your head back and mewling sensually: “Mmhm, Daddy…! You make me f-feel so good.”

“Are you sure you want this?” His sudden question pierced through your head like an electric pulse.

Gulping, you got up a bit to look down at him, his cheeks, neck and shoulders were already flushed, his hair was disheveled and his eyes were as dark as night.

“Yes,” you responded shortly, feeling a tight knot forming inside your lower abdomen just from being so close to his face. “Taste me, Daddy, please… I want to get lost… in you.”

“I see,” he said, hovering over you for a moment to grab the plushy bunny, then handing it to you with a mischievous grin. "Little girls always keep their favorite toys close?”

As soon as you held the bunny, Bateman got back to his previous position, fondling your hips here and there, then he kissed your inner thigh and put your legs together before bending them and pressing against your chest.

“Stay like that.”

After saying that, he brushed away his wavy locks, spit on your pussy and made several, barely sensible, strokes along your bundle of nerves, his sturdy arms were holding your legs to fixate you in one place as his ministrations were making it hard for you to stay still.

“Awww, P-Patrick,” you keened and squeezed the plush toy in your hand, feeling so dirty yet so high from the way his wet tongue was painting various ornaments on your taut lower lips. “I’m gonna faint…”

“Mmm,” he moaned against your feverish little bud before he took it inside his mouth, sucking it so deliciously that your eyes rolled back into your head, your inner walls were already spasming. “You’re my sweet little Cupcake.”

“Yes! Yes, please!”

Slurping at your soaked cunt, Bateman let you rest your legs on his shoulders and pull on his brown hair as you wanted to bring him even closer, moving your hips towards his face. God, you were such a wet moaning mess and when he shoved his long fingers inside of your dripping slit, you lost connection with reality and ascended to the apex of ecstasy.

His fingers were moving inside and outside of you like a clock-work, so smoothly and fast, since he knew your body so perfectly, it was quite simple for him to find your spongy G - spot. Once he started to stimulate it, your toes began to curve and your whole body was jolting as if you were hit by the eclectic shock.

The moment of your orgasm was as astonishing and relieving as a sip of water in the arid desert. But even after you cummed, Patrick didn’t stop eating you out, fingering you harder, so your juices were gashing around your sweaty bodies, the sheets beneath you were already wet and you didn’t know how you would live tomorrow when he leaves you.

“Mmmmh, I’mma cum again, D-Daddy!” You whimpered, squirming around the bed and pressing the plushy bunny against your face as you were on the verge of tears – overstimulation hitting pretty hard.

Bateman only growled in response and stuffed your soaked pussy with another finger, rhythmically swirling his hot tongue around your throbbing tip while his sneaky hand traced up along your shivering body to grope one of your breasts and pinch your engorged nipple.

“Ahhh—GOSH…! Pat...” Your voice cracked as you cummed so hard all around his face that your wetness was literally running down his chin. But he didn’t care, because the only thing that mattered for him was bringing you as much pleasure as he could.

Even when he was panting heavily against your abused cunt, and he almost couldn't feel his fingers anymore, he continued to lap at your cleft. By that moment your legs were looped around his head and you couldn’t stop twitching even for a second, with each lick he sent millions of tingles to your lower belly.

“Daddy, it’s t-too much… I can’t take it any longer.” You felt so goddamn sensitive, and your body was like jelly at this point.

“C’mon, babydoll,” he groaned in a raspy voice after he pulled on your clit with a nasty squeal. “You can give Daddy another one, can't you baby? For me, please?"

This time Patrick buried his tongue as deep inside your womb as he could, licking you from the inside out. He repeated the motion, making you climax countless times in a row, until your little frame couldn't bear it anymore. Soon, you drifted off with a smile of joy on your face, holding the plushy bunny close to your chest. Long time ago that toy was your only friend, but now it seemed like you have become a toy yourself. But unlike the plush bunny, it was obvious that you weren't the only toy for your owner.

Why did it hurt so good to be alive?

You heard a faint voice calling you and asking for help, but no matter how hard you tried to follow it and find it—all you could see was darkness before your eyes. Scared, you moved along the dark alley, surrounded by shadows, shivering from the abnormal cold, and for a second you even thought you were already dead. But when the voice called you again, you finally realized that it was your inner voice, but it sounded so sad, even compared to your darkest days.

"How did you end up like this, (y/n)?" Your own reflection spoke to you, each word cutting through your heart like a dagger. "You're so pathetic and weak, what would Mom and Dad say if they knew about your 'successful' life in New York?"

Frowning, you closed your hands around your ears to stop this madness, but the more you tried to ignore it, the louder the voice became in your head.

"Look what you've done to yourself! Do you really think he cares about you?" 

"Leave me alone!" You yelled at your shadow copy and ran down the alley, but there seemed to be no escape.

"Wake the fuck up! Bateman is just using you for his own needs, and you let him treat you like a fucking toy. Being in debt to him is not an excuse!" You could hear it even with your ears closed and there was nowhere to hide.

"SHUT UP!" You sped up, the cold air hitting your face mercilessly, but you didn't care. "Get out of my head!"

God, it was so fucking absurd to argue with yourself.

Perplexed and scared, you suddenly realized that the faster you were running the louder your inner voice was getting, bringing you a sharp headache as if a million needles cut into your brain at once. It hurt really bad.

“Patrick! Patrick, where are you?” You cried out as the darkness was clouding around you with each passing second. “Please, I need you…” A single tear slid down your warm cheek when you felt your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen as though you were drowning. “Pat-Patrick…”

Slowly closing your eyes, you let the void consume you, which actually brought you some relief, because now you were free from pain and sorrow, reveling in the sweet space of non-existence.

A loud gasp bounced against the walls of your small bedroom, signaling of your eventual awakening. Panting, you sat on the bed only to see Bateman’s sleepy form next to you—he was sleeping like a baby, laying on his back and sniffling from time to time. Shocked, you were trying your best to regain your composure and steady your heavy breathing, not even noticing that you were drenched in sweat. 

Quietly, you slipped out from under the covers to find yourself completely naked, so the next thing you did was find something to put on. Subsequently, you rushed inside your small bathroom and saw Bateman’s clothes drying off on the battery—the memories of the recent events flashed across your mind like a slow-motion movie. First, you were taking a bath—which was still full of cold water—then you nearly drowned but Patrick came in time and literally saved you. The next flashbacks made you lean on the sink and hold back your breath—his eager mouth on your cunt, forcing you to lose your mind and cum again and again until you eventually drifted off. 

Jesus Christ.

Embarrassed, you quickly opened the water and washed your face several times until you cooled down a bit. After you regain your composure, you fasten your terry robe and head to the kitchen as you were so starved that you even had a stomach ache. 

New York was already awake, and the sun was high above the horizon, shining so brightly in the windows that you had to close your blinds and thank God it was Sunday and you didn't have to go to the office because your head was spinning due the aftereffect of your sedative pills. Speaking of them—once you saw the jar with pills on the kitchen counter you threw it into the rubbish without any second thought, yet you didn’t want Bateman to know that he had an influence on your decision. When you closed the door to the kitchen, you accidentally slammed it harder than you should have, and it cracked so loudly that it sounded like a bundle of dishes broke at the same time.

"Damn it!" You cursed to yourself, pressing a palm to your face, certain that the noise would wake Bateman up.

Panicking a bit, you retreated to your bedroom and as soon as you stepped in you saw the man of your dreams stretching out and yawning so adorable, that for a moment you just froze in your place, not capable of taking your eyes off from Bateman’s disheveled hair and his broad chest.

With a low growl, Patrick pulled the blanket away and finally noticed you. "Woah, Cupcake, was that you?" The man chuckled, casually flexing his muscles as he looked at the mirror next to the door where you were standing. "I thought something had exploded outside."

Abashed, you quickly adjusted your robe from his piercing gaze. "Sorry, I can be really..."

"Clumsy?" Smiling broadly, Bateman leaned back against the headboard and crossed his arms. 

"Yes, clumsy," you tugged with your fingers, briefly glancing down—damn, he seemed to be the only person who could embarrass you so easily. "Well...do you want anything?"

"Hmmm, let me think," Patrick hummed before he thoughtfully pressed a finger to his plump lips. "I probably have something on my mind," Bateman gave you a mischievous grin when he saw your curious look and smoothed his golden brown hair. "How about a morning blowjob?" Your instant reaction was a mixture of anger and embarrassment, which made the man's face look even more smug. "Relax! I'm joking." 

Of course he wasn't joking—you knew it and couldn't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest. "I'd pretend I didn't hear that," you said, finally looking away from his sturdy body. "How about breakfast?"

"That sounds really good."

Shocked, you took a moment to think about the possible options you could cook for him since you didn’t really expect him to give you a positive answer. “I can offset you with a scrambled egg and some fresh orange juice.”

With a satisfied grin, the man slowly got up from your modest bed and stretched his muscles again; he was definitely making it on purpose. “Oh, that’s nice,” he almost groaned when he cocked his head to one side then to another. “I can’t say the same about your bed, Cupcake… you should change the mattress if you want to keep walking with a straight back.”

And though Patrick was lamenting, you could say he said it almost affectionately—as if he really cared about you, yet you brushed this conclusion off as fast as your heart was pounding right now when the man got closer to you; his tall, massive frame towered over you like a mountain.

“I also would like to have a shower, if…there’s such an option,” Bateman smirked and briefly traced a finger along your cheek, coaxing you to close your eyes for a second and revel in the soft sensation of his touch. “Did you sleep well?”

A sudden question that fell from his lips like a suffocated gasp, a tender stroke on your shoulder and you were already melting as Patrick knew what he was doing, every touch, every glance of his brown hypnotic eyes was deliberate and smooth, leaving you no chance but to surrender to his demand.

“Yes, I slept like a baby, though I can hardly remember the things that happened before I blacked out,” you lied with an embarrassed smile. “You can have a shower and use whatever soaps and towels you’ll see.” Thee more you talked the more his lips curled, especially when you allowed him to bring you closer into his embrace. “But don’t expect anything extraordinary.”

“I won’t, I promise,”  the man chuckled and playfully pinched your ass. “Sleeping beauty.”

With that, Patrick walked past you, leaving you alone for a moment, giving you a chance to pull yourself together. And when you seemed to relax, a thought of his clothes that had been left in the bathroom popped up in your mind. ‘Oh God, I forgot!’

Nervously, you rushed after Patrick into your bathroom to see that the door was already closed, implying that he was inside and probably naked, though you couldn’t hear the sound of flowing water. Embarrassed, you coughed quietly and knocked several times.

“Yeah?” Bateman’s muffled voice echoed through the door. 

“Patrick, I…” a short pause turned into a breathless gasp. “If you’re not already in the shower, may I come in?”

After a moment, the door in front of you opened and you saw Patrick wrapped in a white towel. “Something wrong?”

“No,” you giggled nervously and sneaked inside the bathroom to quickly grab his clothes. “I just wanted to iron your…suit and stuff, while you’re in the shower…” Quickly, you hovered his garments over your arm and walked past him, hoping he wouldn’t ask any questions, despite his surprised expression. “I’m so sorry for dumping your clothes yesterday.”

With these words, you deftly avoid his grasp as you knew he’d definitely try to make you embarrassed even more. “(Y/n)!”

“Take a shower. I’ll make you breakfast as I promised.” 

This time, the man didn’t try to catch you or follow you, thankfully. So, you could safely make it to your living room where you set an ironing board and put his shirt first to iron. Wrapped in thoughts, you didn’t even notice how carefully you were ironing his clothes, you couldn’t even remember doing the same with your stuff but maybe you were just scared of ruining it since everything he wore was utterly expensive. ‘This suit probably costs like my monthly rent.’ Sighing, you put the shirt aside when you heard the water flowing sound and your mind instantly gave you an image of Patrick’s naked body, enveloped in steam and slightly flush from the heat. ‘Damn, I should stop or I'm gonna ruin something.’ When it was time to iron his tie, you ran your finger along the smooth red fabric, draped in beautiful intricate patterns—you couldn't deny that you had a thing for his ties, for all of them—you smiled to yourself before bringing it to your lips, you could still feel his cologne on it. This tantalizing scent was driving you crazy, it fit him so perfectly as if it was made specially for him, but even if that was true, you wouldn’t be surprised at all, regarding how rich this man was. The moment you finished ironing his pants, you seemed to hear his voice coming from the bathroom. ‘Perfect timing.’

Slightly tensed, you stopped next to the door. “Patrick? Did you call me?” When he didn’t reply, you became even more stirred, so without really caring about seeing him naked, you opened the door and stepped in. “Patrick?” Since your bathroom was much smaller than his, you bumped into his massive frame, squealing in surprise. “Oh God, sorry!”

“Oh, Cupcake,” he wrapped his hands around your shoulders before carefully cupping your face. “I hope you didn’t break your nose against my firm chest?”

Frowning, you gave him a dead glare but he only snickered back. “What happened? Why did you call me?”

“Do you have an extra toothbrush for me? I’ll buy you another one and…”

You stopped him halfway and removed his hands to stroll to the sink and opened the cabinet above it. “Here. There’s also a razor if you need.”

Smirking, Bateman sneaked behind you and pressed his wet body against yours. “Do ya think I need to shave?” He rubbed the mirror from steam to check himself, sliding a hand along his chiseled chin.

“I…I don’t know…I just thought in case you need to, the razor is here.”

“Mhm…” he hummed and before you knew it he nuzzled against your exposed neck, forcing you to gasp and stepped back right into his embrace, just like he planned it. “Does that tickle, Cupcake?” 

‘Dear Lord, please give me the strength to survive this.’

Staying still, you just swallowed hard and let him continue to attack your neck, which he did with precious care before, but now, Patrick also used his mouth and teeth, and that was already too much.

"I think you definitely have some stubble," you laughed, trying to turn it into a joke. But as soon as you tried to walk away, he pulled you back into his strong arms, and that was not funny. "Breakfast Patrick, I have to make breakfast, did you forget?"

"Not really, but I need your help."

"Help?"

The man gave you a devilish smile before lifting you up and sitting you on the bathroom counter, not even giving you a chance to protest. Then Bateman took the shaving cream, checking the brand name skeptically, but then averting his eyes, probably thinking it was better not to know. With deliberate, calculated movements, he applied the cream to his cheekbones, moving up and down his face. The sight was something you never thought you'd find so damn hot that you didn't even make a sound, just watched him carefully prepare to shave.

"Have you ever seen a man shave, darling?" Patrick asked in a cheeky tone, surely noticing the way you were staring at him.

You shook your head. “No,” you shamelessly checked on him, following the little buds of water slipping down his torso. “God, this is such a silly question, don’t you think?”

Instead of answering, Bateman flexed his muscles while watching in the mirror and missing the way you rolled your eyes. “Well, now you finally have a chance.” The man winked at you and grabbed the razor. “You know, I really like your place, it’s pretty clean.”

“You already said that.”

“Oh, did I?”

“Yes,” you crossed your arms and turned away just the moment when the man started to glide the razor against his jawline—you thought the blade would become blunt because his cheekbones were too sharp—his every action was smooth and skillful. “That was the first thing you said when we came in.”

“That only means that it’s really very clean here.”

Huffing, you fixed your robe and cursed to yourself, ‘Why does he always have to be like this?’

Opening the faucet, Patrick cleaned his face after the last stroke of the razor. “Can you check here?” 

Confused, you gave him a questioning gaze when he turned halfway, pointing at the apex of his jaw. Sheepishly, you touched his freshly shaved skin, feeling a slight prickly sensation. “I think it’s still a bit stubbly.” 

“Aha,” Bateman acknowledged and quickly took your hand in his big one, briefly kissing the top of it and giving you the razor. “I told you, I’d need your help, Cupcake.” “How do you even do it yourself?”

“The razors I use are much sharper than this one, honey,” he chuckled but once you placed the razor against his skin he stopped moving. “Just be careful.”

The last phrase struck a chord inside your chest and you even stopped for a moment to take a deep breath before you eventually began to shave the rest of the stubble. All the while, Patrick would glance at you attentively, his hazel irises like hypnotizing spirals, so you forced yourself to stay focused on the razor and the patch of his skin still covered in a shaving cream.

“You have such soft skin,” you mumbled mostly to yourself but you were sure he heard it. “It’s so pleasurable to touch.”

“(Y/n),” he suddenly called out your name in a stern voice. “I think we should talk about yesterday.” “No…”

"Listen to me," he grabbed the hand that held the razor and pushed it to the side. "You should stop taking that sedative."

“It was just an accident.” 

“You could die, Cupcake…”

"I...I know...I owe you for saving me," you finally stated, releasing your hand to finish shaving him. "But let me take care of my life."

“Ouch.”

“Oh my God! Did I hurt you?” You jolted in panic, almost dropping the razor as if you were hit by the electric shot.

“Yes, you did,” Bateman glided a palm along his now perfectly shaved cheeks. “With your words.”

Letting out a sad sigh, you put the razor into the sink next to you and reached for another towel for him as you watched him washing his face. The more you kept silent, the more palpable the tension was getting in the air and after a brief moment of contemplating, you decided that the best option now was just to go to the kitchen and cook.

“Toothbrush is here.” You murmured and got up from the bathroom counter, about to leave but Patrick stopped you. 

First, you glanced down at his grasp around your wrist, then you raised your eyes to meet his walnut ones, now they were absolutely dark and demanding. Inch by inch, the man was getting closer, soon you could feel the fresh scent of your soap on his wet skin as he pressed you along his broad form, one hand rested on the small of your back, while another snaked beneath your robe to outline one of your hard peaks, which were visible through the fabric.

“Pat-Patrick…”

“No more ‘Daddy’ again, huh?” he whispered into your ear, playing with your stray lock. “Do you remember how many times you called me like that last night?”

‘No! I don’t remember, I shouldn’t remember this, I…’

“...your sweet voice sounded so good with all these little dirty pleas, ‘Daddy, don’t stop, mmhm-please!’ Uhhh, that was really something,” Bateman crooned against your neck, forcing you to step back until he trapped you between his massive body and bathroom counter. “Got you.”

There was nothing to say more, once his warm mouth latched on yours, the urge to deny him fading with every second of the kiss, especially when Patrick savagely sucked on your lower lip and drew his tongue across it as if asking for permission to slip inside.

Gasping, you instinctively inclined your head to the side for a moment and the man used it for showering your delicate neck with little peeks which then transformed into wet, red marks. This sweet torture could last forever if you suddenly didn’t press your palm against his naked chest in a determined way.

“We can’t,” you protested when he got down to kiss you again. “You’re engaged, don’t you think it’s so mean to…cheat on your fiance?”

The man couldn’t hold back a scoff. “What does that have to do with anything? You owe me, Cupcake, you owe me a lot.” 

Annoyed, you made an attempt to push him away, but you obviously failed as Patrick was too strong, looming over you like a mountain. “If you mean the last time—I already thanked you and moreover, I didn’t ask you to do it, you know?” You watched his face changing into something more impish, the corners of his lips curled up as if everything was happening according to his plan. “You always decide for me…maybe it’s time to stop?”

Bateman chuckled. “Maybe it’s time to finally open your eyes?”

“Are you…really telling me this?!”

“You owe me a pretty big sum of money,” the man suddenly turned the conversation in another way. “And we had a deal…” Carefully, he trailed his finger along your cheek like an artist admiring his most precious creation. “Do you think I’d be so patient with your bad attitude to me if I were not really into you, hmm?”

The last words made you swallow hard and turned away for a moment, as you were on the verge of tears. Did he really just confirm that there was some kind of affection for you from his side?

“I…I know I owe a lot of money, but believe me, I’ll back them soon,” you removed his arms from your waist but the next second, Patrick placed them on the bathroom counter behind you from both sides, not allowing you to go away. “Please, believe me.”

“I don’t need that fucking money,” Patrick barked and unexpectedly gripped your shoulders, but when he noticed the glowing fear in your eyes, the man loosened his grasp and cupped your face. “I need you. Both your body and soul.”

Closing your eyes, you wanted to sink through the ground. “You want me to do things that you can’t buy with money…” you declared with a chilling coldness in your voice. “Other women are okay with being your toys, but I’m not. Now, let's finish this conversation, it won’t lead to anything.”

A tired sigh broke out from Bateman’s broad chest and for a second he even thought to let you go and turned over the page of the story of two broken souls, who met themselves so suddenly. Maybe now was that exact moment he was waiting so long, the moment to open the cards and confess, even though Patrick could hardly believe it would work.

"You don't seem to be listening to me at all," was all the man could say. "And that's not surprising, since no one really listens to me. Because...uhh...because no one really cares about what really bothers me…" He let you go and stepped back. "And you...I thought you were the only person who...who actually tried to understand me and act naturally."

"Patrick..."

He raised his hand in an eloquent gesture to let him continue. "You probably did it all because of the debt, but...I'll be honest, sometimes I made myself believe that you weren't acting like this just because of the money."

"Is this another manipulation?" You asked bluntly, holding back your tears. "How could I believe you after all the things you did to me? How many times did you treat me like a puppet that you no longer wanted to play with? And not to mention that you turned out to be engaged!" You grabbed your head and leaned against the bathroom counter, massaging your temples. "This is already too much."

The man huffed and cautiously approached you. With a soft, feathery movement, he touched your hands and pulled them away from your strained face. "At least you seem to care that I'm engaged," he said abruptly, moving you closer so that your head was now pressed against his massive chest. "I know it's overwhelming, (y/n). But..." the words suddenly stuck in his throat like a lump. "You're not alone in this." Patrick urged curly, running his large palm along the crown of your head before resting his chin on it, inhaling the scent of your soft hair. 

‘Not alone’, you repeated inside your head and looked up into his brown eyes, which were now so stern and contemplative—you have never seen them like that before. This man, oh God, this man was such a mess, he was making you lose the ground beneath your feet with his sudden confessions, but in the end, actions spoke louder than words, even though you wanted to believe him and sink into the strong feeling you had towards him—you simply couldn’t allow yourself to get lost in him as you would burn out like a match.

All the while you were standing like that, Bateman was hoping you would say something in return, but when you didn’t, he just released you from his embrace without saying a thing. Overwhelmed by emotions, you left the bathroom and let him finish his hygienic routine in private.

A bit later, you didn’t even remember how you cooked a breakfast for both of you, the only thing you did remember was his positive comment that it tasted pretty good. You couldn’t help but smile, though your plate still stood untouched. Patrick noticed that, but didn’t make any comments about that.

“To be honest, I really didn’t expect it to be that nice,” he chuckled and finished his glass of mineral water that he didn’t really like. Quickly checking his Rolex, which he wore right after he took a shower, he added, “I’m afraid it’s time for me to go. Can you please bring me my clothes?”

“Sure.” You raised up and quickly strolled to the iron board where his suit and shirt were waiting to be presented to their owner. “Here, I ironed them for you.”

Bateman froze in shock for a moment. “You…ironed them?”

“Uh, yes, but I did it very carefully, I know everything you wear is utterly expensive,” you gave him his garments and he started to examine every thing with meticulous attention. “I…I thought you wouldn’t like to go outside in rumpled clothes.”

"That's… that's very sweet of you, Cupcake. Really…" he replied, his blush barely noticeable to anyone but you. "Thanks…thanks for everything."

“You’re welcome.” You murmured shyly, crossing your arms over the chest and watching him getting up from the table and walking to your bedroom to dress up.

Moments later, you both were standing in your small hallway, Patrick fixing his tie and coat, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“How do I look?” He asked nonchalantly, putting on the headphones of his Walkman.

Slightly upset, you leaned against the wall, your eyes gliding up and down his elegant, tall silhouette; the way the dark blue trench coat sat on his broad shoulders made you almost gasp in admiration.

“Perfect as always,” you stepped closer to adjust the collar of his shirt. “You’re like a Vogue cover which came alive.”

Fluttered, Bateman smiled and caught your hand to place a kiss on top of it. “And I always believe your compliments, they are so…sincere or…” he paused and looked into your eyes. “...or I’m just fooling myself.”

His usual chuckling now was less happy and it stirred something inside of you, so when you got up on your toes to kiss his cheek, Patrick took it like another chance to be intimate with you. With unhidden tenderness, the man pulled you into his arms to seal your mouths with a soft but passionate kiss which brought some unexpected relief for both of you.

“You know, I…I really appreciate your courage to be open with me,” you suddenly confessed when he broke the kiss, still holding you close. “It’s just that I need some time to think over things and…my life is such a mess.”

"Oh, you don't have to tell me that," Bateman sneered ironically to himself. "Since I know who made your life so messy," he stopped you from saying anything else by pressing his finger to your lips. Then the man slowly leaned down so that your foreheads now touched in the most intimate way. "Promise me you won't take those pills again."

"And you promise me you won't say things like no one gives a fuck about you," you gripped his arm, rubbing his firm bicep under the soft fabric of his coat. "Because I do give a fuck about you, even though I don't really like it."

"We'll talk about...us. That's the only promise I can make right now."

"Us?"

"You heard what I said," he pinched your nose, just like after the fashion show. "I'll call you today and Cupcake?" He leaned down to whisper in your ear, accidentally brushing his nose against your neck. "You're always on my mind, but I still haven't decided if it's good or not." The way he used your words to tease you brought a broad smile to your face, but the next time, all joy faded as the man stroked your cheek one last time before stepping aside to check himself in the mirror. "Hope to see you soon, darling."

With that he closed the door behind him and as much as you hated saying goodbye, you hated the moments like that, when you couldn’t control yourself as your emotions peaked, causing your knees to buckle and you stopped yourself from falling down only because you managed to lean on the nearby wall. The whole thing about your relationship with Bateman was one big mistake, as you would never find yourself belonging to this world—your meeting was a joke of fate—no less to say. Although you knew it, your heart was like a rebellion who refused to listen, to obey, to accept the truth that there were no chances to turn this situation in a way that would help these relationships to become healthy and normal. ‘Normal, huh? Do yuppies even know such a word?’ Laughing ironically to yourself, you got up and went back into your kitchen to wash the dishes. The sight of Patrick sitting here with a glass of water in his hand was still so fresh in your mind, but now you began to doubt if that really had happened. 

All day later, you couldn’t sleep, you couldn’t eat, waiting for his call but he never did it. It was not surprising after the shit that man had done, but today you were really hoping he would keep his word. But your hopes were broken to pieces again, in the most brutal possible way because you really decided to give it a try and believed him.

When the night came to New York City, you were standing in your living room with a cup of freshly brewed coffee, thinking about what would you do next and trying to think less about what Patrick was doing right now…and even less about with whom he probably could be. ‘...with Courtney or maybe with his fiance, Evelyn?’ You snickered sadly to yourself and finished your drink. Coffee was supposed to help you to keep awake but instead it only made you even more sleepy, so you didn’t even realize how you fell asleep on your little couch while putting down the notes of how today’s day had gone in your diary.

The next moment you were awakened by the sudden doorbell, which caught you off guard and even scared you a bit as you didn’t wait for anyone. Quickly enveloping your robe, you got up and saunted to the door to look at the peephole—you would lie to yourself if you said you weren’t expecting someone specific, but when you saw nothing but flowers, your heart skipped a beat. 

With one swift motion, you opened the door and an unknown guy instantly greeted you with a polite tone. “Good morning, miss (y/n),” he then handed you a big bouquet of red and white roses—it was so heavy you could barely hold it. “Uh, can you please put your sign here?”

Confused, you pressed the flowers to your chest to see the man’s face. “Are you… are you sure it’s for me?”

The courier only smiled and giggled. “Of course, but you can check the address, if you want,” the man showed you the paper with the order details. “We make no mistakes, miss, that’s why our service is the best around New York.”

“I see,” you responded and put your signature on the place he pointed you. “But, can I ask you who sent me this?”

“There’s a card inside if I’m not mistaken,” the courier replied and with that he put the paper inside his bag. “Have a good day, ma'am.”

“Thanks.” 

With that, you closed the door and somehow proceeded into your living room where you put the bouquet on the coffee table and began to look for the vase for it. When you managed to find it, you poured some water and placed the flowers into it, then you remembered the courier’s words about the card and the next second you were already leafing through the flowers. Soon, a small white card caught your attention and when you picked it out, the first thing you noticed was two beautiful letters—P.B. in the end of the text which said: 

“Good morning, my sweet Cupcake, 

I’m sorry I didn’t call you tonight, I was extremely busy and didn’t really have any free time, but I hope this little gift would cheer you up a bit. What do you think about going to a yacht club these weekends? I’m looking forward to hearing from you soon. 

Utterly yours, P.B.” 

Your hands began to shake the moment you finished reading, but you managed to regain your composure. Driven by the unbridled happiness inside your chest, you leaned down to inhale the sweet scent of flowers—God, it felt like a dream. And speaking of dreaming—you were still so sleepy that after you finally calmed down, you decided to come back into the bed and nap a little bit longer. The sheets were still smelling of him, coaxing you to rub your face against the pillows and imagine him being here with you and somehow, you finally realized how deep this man was rooted inside your heart. ‘Utterly yours…’ You kept replaying these words inside your head until you drifted off to another dream, but this time, it was not a nightmare, but a heaven where Patrick was only yours, and you were his only one.

Thank you for the reading!🖤 [MAIN M-LIST]🪓[SWEET LIKE A CUPCAKE M-LIST]🪓[KO-FI]

[oonajaeadira]

FLUFFBRUARY 19: tea cakes | flood | feature (Lucien de Leon)

ADIRA'S SELF-IMPOSED FLUFFBRUARY RULES:

Six sentences.

Must be fluffy.

All 29 ficlets must feature a different Pedro.

All three words must be used (Fluffbruary prompt list here).

Use the words in order.

I reserve the right to break rules and/or cheat.

He could give a rat's ass about this hoity day party in the Hills, all tea services and tea settings and tea cakes and not a damn bottle in sight, all slim Hollywood hotbodies hopped up on orlistat and phentramine and naltrexone, everyone talking and nobody listening, playing the game, trying to land a job by being the favorite.

He only agreed to come on the small chance that he might run into you–not that you’d really enjoy a party like this from what he’s heard–but he’d drown in a flood of earl grey or rooibos or whatever the fuck it was in those pots just to get your hands on him, because everyone says you’re the best.

There’s a problem however…he’s never actually met you, never seen a picture, just heard it said that when you cut a man’s hair it’s like a lucky charm, it can reboot an actor's whole career, and at this point, he needs all the help he can get.

But he’s distracted in his search by a pretty girl engaged in conversation in the corner–a woman with genuine features, a brilliant smile, real cuddle qualities, but wow, confidence, like a real REAL girl–and when she catches him staring and makes a break for him, for the first time in his life he’s stunned, doesn’t know where to look or what to do with his hands, as if he's made out of Hollywood plastic compared to this real life angel walking toward him.

“Hi,” she–you, rather–introduces yourself serendipitously as the very person he’s been looking for, reaching tentatively for his curls with a hummed, “that pretty wave you’ve got there is a really beautiful feature…may I?”

It takes him a shocked, speechless moment to realize you’re asking to touch his hair, but he only skips a couple of beats before nodding enthusiastically, and as your fingers rake pleasingly along his scalp, he realizes he really does need all the help he can get...just to keep his knees from giving out beneath him.

___

@fluffbruary

FLUFFBRUARY MASTERLIST

[katnissmellarkkk]

i’m so not trying to be mean but i can’t believe anyone actually thought haymitch wouldn’t be cast as a young woody harrelson. there is absolutely no way a young haymitch was ever gonna be anything but white. i know i joked about it, but it was a joke.

yes, haymitch, katniss and gale are poc in the books. canonically. but that went out the window in the movie universe in 2011 when they casted all white people. there was never a chance they would sway from that now. no one affiliated with the movies will even admit katniss wasn’t white. suzanne collins herself won’t admit it. and majority of people on the internet, outside of this site and small pockets of the fandom on other apps, all believe katniss/haymitch/gale/etc. were always meant to be white.

i don’t agree with it but until they reboot the entire series, these characters will always be white. and since the films practically walk on water in the mainstream media’s eyes, we’re sort of stuck with what we got.

[rekino2114]

Omg the recent episode for despair time😭😭😭 not to mention the ending with Teruko. We totally need Teruko with a boyfriend who's just always there for and reassuring her that he loves her and will never leave her no matter what.

You saving teruko from her execution

A/n:I know this isn't exactly what you asked for, but come on, this was too good of a fic opportunity to pass up. Sorry if this isn't what you wanted but I hope you still like it

Yes, this is the second drdt post in a row, but writing is my coping mechanism, and with how much trauma chapter 2 gave me You're probably gonna see more fics about it

The second trial had finally ended. After hours of discussion, you had finally figured out that ace was the culprit, the one who killed arei, and so you voted for him accordingly. You wanted nothing more than to go back to your room and hug teruko after all of this,You both were gonna need comfort after seeing another person......you just didn't know how much-needed it truly would have been.

While it was sudden at first you had no problems with teruko's plan and were actually pretty excited for it, any hope of getting you two out of this hell, no matter how small, was a good one for you and you were going to follow it.

It all started relatively well, ace managed to punch monotv, and the robot seemingly shut down before rebooting. That wasn't what shocked you,You knew there was a very high chance that it wouldn't work, but what really surprised and scared you was what he said after that

Since Ace was already going to be executed, the host decided to pass down his punishment to the one who had the idea to hurt him........teruko

"To conclude, I will now proceed with the execution of teruko tawaki"

The moment you heard those words, you froze, and when the gun came out of the floor, you could do nothing but stare at it.

Monotv started counting down and teruko......stood there, she didn't do anything she didn't even try to run or save herself even with all of you screaming at her

"What's the point I should have known this would happen, even if I shield myself behind others,even if I search for an escape, it always comes down to this, I need to face the consequences of my actions there's no escaping that"

"What are you talking about? You're going to be killed!"

"Killed? I doubt it. As if something so kind could happen to me. I won't die even if monotv puts 100 bullets in my body. I'll only be badly injured, possibly lose a body part. Maybe I'll even end up in a coma for months, but I won't die, I never will. There's nothing I can do but accept my fate. It's what I deserve after all"

"Teruko! run! please!"

"Don't worry everyone. I'll show you what it means to be the ultimate lucky student"

"Zero"

The gun fired, and blood covered everything, even teruko's clothes.......your blood

"Y-y/n! What happened?"

"I-i tried to get in front of the gun but he beat me to it"

Teruko stood silent, watching your body fall in front of her. She didn't know what to do, she didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to think. This wasn't supposed to happen.

Right now, she was supposed to be writhing in pain, almost passing out but not to the point where she couldn't feel the terrible pain, but somehow, seeing you bleeding out on the ground knowing it was her fault felt even more painful than every accident she'd ever been in

Her luck killed you

She killed you

"Ahahahahahaha of course, of fucking course"

"T-teruko?"

"I should have known this would happen, of course. It would have been too kind to even make me suffer that much. You just had to kill the only person I love"

Not even teruko herself knew who she was talking to, maybe her luck, maybe monotv, maybe whatever fate was responsible for her existence of pure suffering. She was just completely breaking down without you

"Don't worry I shut off the gun as soon as I detected that y/n was in the way, his injuries are not fatal"

"Not fatal? Is he alive?"

"He's barely breathing, he's not going to be alive for much longer-"

".............he's......still alive?"

".......Yes, he could live theoretically but only if he gets immediate treatment"

Teruko didn't know what to think. On one hand, this was probably another layer of her suffering, giving her the hope that you would live just to crush her completely when that hope was revealed to be false but on the other hand, what would she say to you if she didn't follow that hope? If she just gave up right here without even trying. She loved you more than anything, even more than herself. If you were going to die, then she at least had to try and save you.

"Get him to the infirmary now!"

Everyone was surprised by teruko's authoritative tone, but carried your body to the elevator

"Monotv open the door"

"I'm sorry, but the participants can only leave the trial grounds once the class trial is complete, that includes the death of the blackened"

As everyone argued about what to do, teruko's cold voice made them all silent

".........ace"

"NO FUCK NO, I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE ABOUT TO SAY"

"If you're so scared of being executed. Then I can solve that problem for you"

Teruko pulled her knife out of her pocket and pointed it at him with an unhinged expression on her face

"I don't think it matters if you get executed or not.......you just have to die right?"

"t-teruko you can't mean"

"Don't do it!"

"It's your choice, I'll make it quick. That's my objective after all

"......Y-YOU'RE INSANE.....YOU THINK HIS LIFE IS WORTH MORE THAN MINE!?"

"........yes"

"......!"

"Teruko? What are you saying? Why are you doing this?"

"Because.............I CAN'T LOSE Y/N"

Her yelling caught everyone off guard but they were too scared to say anything to her

"that would mean I once again caused the death of another person I loved......I-I can't deal with that again......especially since it's y/n"

"........."

"Ace, you're about to die anyway, If you really want to make things right, if you really want to at least be able to face arei in the afterlife, then die to let another person live"

"..........You're so selfish"

".............."

"But I guess I was too wasn't I?"

"A-ace"

"I'm so scared.....I'm so fucking scared I might start crying right now, bit if I really have to die.....I GUESS I'LL GO OUT DOING SOMETHING GOOD FOR ONCE IN MY GODDAMN LIFE!"

Ace got executed, and the elevator door opened as a result, Levi carried your body to it while everyone else followed him....except teruko

"T-teruko, what are you doing? Come here!"

".......no I'm staying here"

"W-what?"

"Wait before you leave though, I need to say something......Arturo If you dare let y/n die, then I'll kill you myself"

"!"

"That's a promise"

Teruko's words sent a shiver down the plastic surgeon's spine, but soon the door closed, and she was left alone with monotv, she talked with him for a while before he shut off the lights and left her truly alone, that was when she cried.....in the dark,alone. teruko almost never cried, even you had never really seen her do that, she told herself that she went trough too much suffering and despair to cry over it, she needed to be strong to face whatever tragedy her luck would bring her and to protect you from all of them but today she failed.

No matter the result, nothing would be the same. If you died, then teruko would keep her promise and be executed as a result, but even then, she most likely would not have seen you again, the execution would have somehow failed and left her in a state of complete suffering and despair, she would wish for death to see you again but she would have never gotten that luxury

And if you would survive, then you would surely hate her. She was the reason why you almost died after all, that would make you realize that being with her would just lead to you dying or being close to death and you would break up with her, she really couldn't blame you, in fact the worst part about this was she couldn't blame anything, she couldn't blame her luck, she couldn't blame fate, she could only blame herself.

When she got back to the living quarters, the first thing she did was ask Arturo about your condition. She was relieved that you had survived, but only because she didn't want to dirty her clothes in blood twice the same day. She vowed to stay with you until the moment you woke up, both because she didn't want anyone to try and kill you when you were vulnerable and because she wanted to be the first one to see you open your eyes.

She barely ate and always stood in a chair next to the bed in the infirmary, she talked to basically only eden and Charles as those were the only ones who weren't scared that she'd randomly try to stab them because of grief, she even slept there still holding your hand desperately wishing it would wrap around her own.

And one day it did

"Y-y/n, you're awake! Are you ok? Do I need to call Arturo?"

"N-no I'm fine, I think, It still kinda hurts but I'm fine now"

"Ok, I'm glad"

Silence followed. You were still getting used to being conscious again, and teruko didn't know how to start the conversation

"........why did you get in front of me?"

"Hm?"

"Why did you save me? I told you I wasn't going to die"

".........cause I can't bear to see you suffer anymore"

"W-what?"

"Every time you're in pain, it hurts me to see you like that, after everything you've been through in your life, you deserve to be happy teru, I know that I sound selfish saying this but your happiness is the most important thing in the world to me......even more than my life"

"...........do you think you seeing you dead will make me happy?"

"U-uh?"

"Sorry if I'm aggressive but.....You're wrong, the most pain someone could give me is taking you away from me. You're literally the only thing I have left, my family, my friends, they all left me, you're the only person I love that is still with me.......why?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you still with me? If you stay, then you'll probably end the same as every other person I loved. Today was an example of that. It's better that you leave me, for your own safety, I hate seeing you hurt, so please leave me"

"...........teruko, I'll never leave you"

"....w-why? You'll get killed if you do, i-my luck will kill you"

"........because I love you"

"......."

"What you said before, about the worst pain that you could even feel is me being taken away from you, that's exactly how I feel towards you"

"......you really do?"

"Of course teru, I love you so so so much, don't I always tell you"

"But I'm-"

"No, teruko, stop it. Stop blaming yourself, I will never leave you. That's a promise , no matter whatever your luck throws at me, I promise I will always find a way to come back, because I love you, and my love is stronger than whatever your luck is"

Teruko cried once again, no matter how much she tried to keep her tears in she couldn't stop it

"I.....I......I'm sorry"

"For what?"

"For everything, for dragging you into my life, hell the reason why you're in this killing game is probably because of me"

"Teru-"

"But if even knowing that,you still love me, if even despite everything you still want to be with me, then I promise I will protect you"

"........"

"My luck.....it's always been a curse, ripping the people I loved from me and always leaving me in pure despair but now, now that I have someone who knowing that still wants to love me, I will not let it take you no matter what"

"........thank you teruko"

She wiped her tears with her wrist and looked back at you

"No, thank you for being in my life"

Teruko stood up from the chair

"I'm going to tell Arturo you woke up and get you some water ok?"

"Yeah thanks"

She started walking away, but turned to look at you one more time, this time with a smile on her face

"......I love you too, you have no idea how much"

[twentyonetornmyheart]

I Won’t Be Long

Buffy Summers x Fem!plus size reader

so i’ve been seeing that buffy the vampire slayer might get rebooted or that their might be a spin off so she’s been on my mind a loooot lately. i am in no way a person that writes fan fiction but i read it a lot and i thought it would be fun to try it!!! lmk what you think!!

——————————————————————-

“Baby? I’m home! How was your day?” you call out as you step into the unusually quiet house. You set your things down, letting out a small sigh as you kick off your shoes. Usually, Buffy greets you before you even have time to get settled, but tonight? Silence.

“Buff?” you call again, a little louder this time. Still nothing.

Brows furrowing, you head further inside, only to stop short at the sight of a chaotic kitchen. There’s flour dusted across the counter, a half-empty carton of eggs sitting dangerously close to the edge, and what looks like a valiant but questionable attempt at dinner.

Before you can investigate, strong arms wrap around your waist from behind, squeezing you close against a familiar toned body. You gasp at the sudden contact, but it’s more out of surprise than protest. The warmth of her touch, the way she easily presses against you—like she can’t get close enough—has you instantly relaxing.

Because it’s her.

The strongest woman you’ve ever met. The one who leaves you breathless, who makes your heart race, who somehow chose you over Spike and Angel. The woman who, despite your occasional insecurities, never hesitates to show you just how much she adores every inch of you.

Her lips brush against the side of your neck, and she hums appreciatively before whispering, “Hello, gorgeous. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

You smirk. “You? Scare me? Not a chance, Slayer,” you tease, turning in her embrace. Her hands stay firm against your plush waist, fingers flexing slightly as if reveling in the feel of you. You place a lingering kiss against her cheek before quirking a brow. “However, you willingly stepping into the kitchen? Now that is cause for concern. What exactly are you trying to whip up this time?”

Buffy grins, tilting her head as her hands slide lower, resting on the curve of your hips. There’s an almost reverent way she touches you—like she’s memorizing every dip, every soft expanse, as if she loves just how much of you there is to hold.

The scent of cherry lip gloss—her signature Lip Smackers—lingers as she pecks the tip of your nose. “I wanted to make you dinner—or at least attempt to,” she admits, voice slipping into that flirtatious tone she knows weakens your resolve. “You know… since we just barely averted yet another apocalypse. The house is actually empty for once, the Scooby Gang is gone…”

Her hands start to roam again, traveling over the full curve of your stomach before slipping down to your thick thighs, fingertips teasing as they trace along your leggings. Her voice drops just a bit lower. “Figured it was the perfect night to spoil my girl.”

Your breath hitches slightly, but you recover quickly, giggling as you glance over her shoulder at the state of the kitchen. “Well, how’s it going? Because, shockingly, nothing smells burnt this time.”

Your fingers find their way into her golden locks, nails lightly scratching against the back of her neck. She shivers under your touch, and you smirk, voice turning just as teasing as hers. “Keep this up, and you might just get a reward.”

Buffy groans softly, her hands gripping your hips tighter before gliding back to your ass, giving it a deliberate squeeze that makes you gasp against her lips. She loves touching you—loves how soft you are, how easily you fit against her. She’s told you before how much she loves the difference between your bodies, how much she craves feeling all of you beneath her hands. And right now? She’s making that very obvious.

But just as she leans in for more, you pull away with a playful smirk.

A pout immediately forms on her lips, her lower lip jutting out just enough to be ridiculously adorable.

“I’m gonna go wash up and get ready for this exquisite meal you’ve prepared,” you tease, backing toward the stairs with a wink. “I won’t be long.”

Buffy groans dramatically, watching you go with a look of longing. What you don’t see, however, is the way she bites her lip as her gaze lingers on the sway of your hips, appreciation evident in her eyes.

What she doesn’t know? That you’ll be back soon, and if she plays her cards right, dessert might not be the only sweet thing she gets tonight.

Of course, what neither of you realize is that her so-called homemade dinner? It had a little extra help—from a certain redheaded witch and a meddling little sister.

[destinyc1020]

Would love your thoughts on this podcast...👀

https://open.spotify.com/episode/3CicLuea1xnF2NNwGbqoHI?si=LWU6q33hTrO52BYlZ6eIIg

Ugh I didn't even want to comment on this podcast tbh because some of the commentary on there (especially about Tom) made me upset. 😤

But since you asked.....

Here are my thoughts:

First, I'll be honest that I was skimming through some of the commentary a bit, so if I missed something on accident, then oops!

Overall, I felt that they had some valid points on some aspects of the conversation.

For example, I felt that they were right about the fact that it's harder to create movie stars these days. Most people have your nostalgia vibe with the older actors like Denzel, Leo, Julia Roberts, Will Smith, etc.

Imo, the industry has changed significantly over the years and that has contributed to this phenomenon. I actually don't think it's really fair to compare actors in they're 60s and 70s to actors under 40 these days, because a lot of the younger actors these days are living in a world that has changed drastically. The film industry and even the TYPES of films that get made have changed drastically. Back in the day, studios used to take chances on actors and a wide variety of films that had nothing to do with remakes, reboots, or franchises. Now, studios don't take chances on original content anymore. Not as much as the past. People love older actors because it reminds them of a better time in the film industry. Just being honest.

I agree that younger women are getting a much easier time being in the top 10 list, whereas when it comes to the older generation, it's the males that dominate.

I DEFINITELY think that if you're going to be a "movie star", you have to do at least SOME blockbuster type films at SOME point in your career. There's no way you're going to be able to get that star status with just doing indie and smaller films. You're going to have to branch out. Look at Pedro Pascal, Denzel, Tom Cruise, the Rock, Will Smith, Leo, etc. The reason why most of them rank so highly on the list and are considered "movie stars" is because they have done either franchise films, or BIG, LARGE blockbuster films at SOME point in their careers, and this has contributed to their movie star status and success.

I do agree that Zendaya has the potential to be higher on the list than she already is. She's def in the "movie star" category that many will be talking about for years to come. Part of that is due to her Disney start, her fanbase from her younger days, her presence (even if small) in major big blockbuster films and franchises, her fashion and marketing on the red carpet, her brand deals, and also her previous social media presence.

I agree that Tom Holland and Timothée Chalamet are among the bigger male actors of the under 40 crowd in Hollywood for sure. I think part of that is due to their big films, their films put butts in seats, and also maybe too their marketing, personality, charisma, and maybe even social media presence in the past.

Obviously, Spiderman and the Marvel films helped Tom get to that level, but I also think it's the fact that Tom just has a great personality, a lot of rizz, he's talented, and like the guys mentioned, the umbrella performance from years ago lol, and just the fact that he's very well loved among many! 😃 I know some of them on that podcast were acting surprised that Tom was up as high as he was, but I'm not surprised in the last least! Tom has a HUGE following! Just because they don't understand it doesn't mean that he doesn't have it. 🙄 Idk why people keep trying to question it, instead of just ACCEPTING it as fact? Hello? 🤷🏾‍♀️

I also didn't appreciate the fact that they basically INSINUATED that the main reasons why Tom is so high on the rankings is JUST because of his Spiderman status, and because of his relationship with Zendaya. 😒 How utterly RUDE and presumptuous! 😡 Does Tom being Spiderman help? Yes, of course. Does him being in a high-profile relationship with Zendaya help? Maybe, yes... just a little bit. But I do NOT agree that just because you date Zendaya, that this is going to automatically make you rank higher on the list. 🙄 JE dated Zendaya also, and it didn't get him much fame at all. It's NOT about dating Zendaya. It's about how much talent, charisma, and likability you have as well. People just LIKE Tom, and they like his films, even if they don't get critical acclaim. He's popular! The masses love him! You can just look at how much engagement he has on his social media and also on YouTube videos to see that.

I think some people just want to see Tom fail for some reason. 😒 They must be so BITTER against him, and for what???? Timothée has had some fails too (hello, Bones & All? ), but I don't see anyone mentioning THAT. Idk why people act like Tom is like the worst actor around or smthn. It must be jealousy at this point. People will ALWAYS low-key hate on who they're jealous of. Smh.

The way they didn't even really mention the Odyssey. C'mon. 🙄

I'm not surprised to see MBJ so low on the list. It's harder for the males these days, and not only that, but he's a moc, so it's ALWAYS going to be harder to reach those ranks. Truth be told, MBJ has had some really awesome hits and blockbuster films (especially if he keeps sticking with Coogler), and he really should be much higher on this list. But because he's a moc, it's going to be a much bigger fight for him to get higher. Will Smith had the advantage of being on a hit TV show (Fresh Prince) for years before breaking into film, and so many people already had nostalgia and associated him with that, but MBJ doesn't have that luxury, even though he also did TV for years.

I'm kinda shocked to see Glen Powell ranked so LOW on the list, but he's one I'd definitely put my money on for the future. I think Pedro will go far as well. Some people just have star quality, even if they aren't quite there yet though. Glen may have to work harder at his persona or social media presence, but I just get this feeling that within the next 5 years, he will be a much bigger name than he is now. He seems to have the drive and desire to be a big name. I think it will happen if he keeps playing his cards right.

Anyway, those are my long-winded thoughts.

[stellati0n]

Hii!!​ I saw your requests are temp open for small requests! Can I request the alphabet game for Scaramouche/Wanderer? With the letters X, O, A? Thank you so much!!

ay btw they’re still open for now :]

here’s the big ole list (be warned some of the stuff might not be too good lol)

x —

(i.e. how he smooch)

this one’s highly dependent on his emotional state and how flustered he is, as well as the stage the relationship is at. i still stand by the headcanon that if he gets too wound-up, he’ll just buffer and be unable to respond (also running the risk of him crashing). so if you manage to successfully catch him off-guard with a kiss (good luck), then his internal processing will tank.

if you’re especially new into the relationship and you have the confidence to do that, there’s a non-zero chance you will have to reboot him. if he was feeling brave, then he’d try and return it another time, if not right away. the whole process involves a lot of blushing and notably quick pecks, more than anything.

once you’re well into the relationship, however, then you get to see a whole new side of him. every time he’d kiss you, you could feel him brimming with confidence—in himself and your love for him. he knew you liked it, especially when he’d have a hand elsewhere on you to draw you closer to him. if he gets jealous somehow, you might find yourself starved of breath while he holds you against his lips for longer than normal. just a reminder that you’re his and he’s yours <3

o —

(i.e. how official is it?)

oh, it’s official, but scaramouche is not the type to tell people about your relationship. simply because he doesn’t see the need in doing so, and neither do you. he will mention it to people he trusts (of which are few and far between), but he treats it like it’s common knowledge. for example, he might’ve been talking to nahida about a particular dish she mentioned. “ah yes, i tried to feed it to (y/n), but then they got too embarrassed when i was doing it which ended in them spilling it all over themself. so yeah, it’s messy.”

nahida then just looked at him like ಠ_ಠ, to which he was like “oh yeah, we’re dating btw. have been for over a year now.” and thus proceeded the nahida inquisition about the relationship. he was sparse on the details, as per your agreement. but more than happy to (smugly) divulge the details that left nahida with the seed of a love for gossip.

someone could watch you two for long enough and figure out you’re in a relationship with how much casual contact scaramouche makes, like resting his chin on your shoulder (his favourite), leaning on you, or simply having your hands atop each others when you sit together. you both agreed you wouldn’t talk about it much, but if people know, then they know. there’s no need for lies when you can simply obfuscate the truth.

a —

(i.e. how awkward can it get?)

at the beginning, you two were like middle schoolers with helpless crushes on each other, despite being an official pair, if only by the moon’s witness. so yes, there was a lot of awkwardness you both had to get over. he was probably the worse offender in that he’d get worked up over the smallest signs of affection you showed, still unable to believe that you not only liked him back, but wanted to also be with him. stammering mess solely by holding hands.

however, that was all before he had the confidence to apply his usual almost-smug demeanour to the relationship. once he got to that stage, it was all over for you. incessant flirting, surprise displays of affection, risqué whispers in public—you were going to blow up every single time. he loved your reactions. cute, he’d call them. it took a long time to work up your own confidence to be able to return what he gave.

and boy, can he sometimes not receive what he dishes out. once you started returning his words and actions, sometimes even springing them on him unprompted, it was like he was back to where he started: cherry-red faces, unintelligible stammering and overheating processors. he still has his moments where he has to recuperate before he can continue the line of teasing and flirting. just remember to have some concept of a stop-button before you try and force the other into red-faced submission.

[hanashi-01]

Wanted to Jay's season 3 scars :)

Jay had returned to the others but there are .. compilations

Here's a fun short story I did:

(ln Jay and Cinder's shared room. After Jay had fully waken up)

Donnie shifts nervously in his chair as he prepares himself to speak. Jay sits quietly on the bed, staring down at her bandaged arm in its sling, her expression tense and uncertain.

Donnie clears his throat softly.

"Jay,...you remember when Shredder hit you, right?"

Jay nods slowly, fingers tightening into a fist.

"Yeah. He hit me right on my back. Felt like he pierced straight through me.'

Donnie winces sympathetically, nodding in agreement.

"He kind of did--well, at least metaphorically speaking. He struck a very specific pressure point on your spine, precisely at the intersection where your central nervous system connects most directly to your...well, your powers. Think of your nervous system as electrical wiring carrying your energy throughout your entire body:'

Jay listens intently, anxiety rising in her eyes.

Donnie continues carefully, choosing each word.

"Normally, your nerves handle your bioelectric energy flawlessly-kind of like how wires carry electricity through a house. But your overload state or "Overload Mode,' combined with Shredder's pinpoint attack, caused a sudden and massive surge-like blowing a fuse. Essentially, it short-circuited your entire nervous system, and that left you, well..

He hesitates, looking at her apologetically.

'..like a dead battery.'

Jay visibly deflates, shoulders sinking as she processes the reality. She flexes her fingers as if trying to summon some spark of power. Nothing. Again..

Donnie quickly offers reassurance

'But-listen, Jay. Your nerves aren't permanently damaged, just severely disrupted. Your system is basically rebooting. With rest, training, and patience, there's a good chance your powers can reconnect."

He smiles gently, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

'We'll get you through this, Jay. We always do."

Jay lets out a shaky breath and looks up at him. Her eyes showed gratitude, even if her own were nothing but a grim empty sadness.

"Thanks, Donnie....Really.' she replies, feigning a small smile. Donnie nods, gently patting her shoulder and leaves the room.

Leaving Jay to feel much more empty than hopeful...

#oh yea we gettin angsty #yes the 2k12 farmhouse season

[s0ulja-g1rl]

Puppy Love

Zak Saturday x Female!Reader | Fluff | 900+ Words

Zak had faced cryptids, villains, and near-death experiences without so much as a flinch—but nothing had ever prepared him for you.

You weren’t just a friend. No, that would be too simple. You were his best friend, his partner in adventure, the one person outside his family who got him. And, unfortunately for him, you were also the one person who could turn him into a complete, blushing mess with just a smile.

Which was exactly what was happening now.

"Zak, come on!" you called, reaching for his hand as you ran ahead. "You’re so slow!"

Zak blinked, torn from his daze just in time to see you turn back and grab his wrist, pulling him forward. Your fingers wrapped around his, warm and soft, and oh god he was going to die.

"I-I’m not slow!" he protested, voice cracking slightly. "I was just—uh—analyzing the terrain!"

You snorted. "Sure, nerd. Come on, I wanna show you something!"

His stomach flipped as you dragged him forward, deeper into the dense forest that surrounded the Saturday family’s latest cryptid investigation site. The evening air was cool, carrying the distant sounds of chirping insects and rustling leaves. Zak should’ve been focused—there was always a chance of running into something dangerous—but all he could think about was you.

The way your hair bounced when you ran. The way your laugh sounded in the open air. The way you still hadn’t let go of his hand.

Get a grip, Zak! his brain screamed at him. You’ve faced giant monsters. Why is holding hands so much scarier?!

You finally slowed as you reached a small clearing, bathed in golden light from the setting sun. In the center stood a cryptid pup—small, furry, and looking up at the two of you with wide, curious eyes.

Your grin widened. "See? I found him earlier while you were busy nerding out with your parents. Isn’t he cute?"

Zak swallowed, forcing his brain to reboot before he embarrassed himself again. "Y-Yeah! Super cute." He cleared his throat. "Uh, what is it?"

"Some kind of young Canis Cryptid," you said, crouching beside it. "He’s not dangerous. Just lost. I thought maybe we could help him find his way home?"

Zak knew he should be looking at the cryptid. Studying it. Taking notes. But no, his eyes were locked on you.

The way you gently scratched the little creature’s ears, smiling down at it like it was the most important thing in the world. The way the golden sunlight hit your face, making your eyes shine.

The way his heart was slamming against his ribs like it was trying to escape.

"Zak?"

Crap. You were looking at him now, head tilted in curiosity. He must’ve zoned out again.

"I—uh—yeah!" he blurted, too loudly. "Let’s get him home! Teamwork! Cryptid-saving! Totally on it!"

You giggled, and Zak felt like he’d ascended to another plane of existence.

"Alright, dork. Let’s go."

The two of you spent the next hour trekking through the forest, following tracks, checking trees, and occasionally stopping to let the tiny cryptid sniff around. It was… nice. Peaceful. Just the two of you, no stress, no missions, no world-ending threats.

At some point, the cryptid pup had curled up in your arms, completely content with being carried. Zak watched in quiet awe, stomach twisting into hopelessly tight knots.

"I am so screwed."

"Hey, Zak?"

He snapped to attention. "Y-Yeah?"

You slowed your pace, shifting the little cryptid in your arms. "Do you ever think about the future?"

Zak blinked. "Uh. Like, in general? Or in the big ‘what am I doing with my life’ kind of way?"

You laughed. "I dunno. Just… what comes next. We travel so much, chasing cryptids and saving the world and stuff, but do you ever think about what you want? Y'know, outside of all this?"

Zak hesitated. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about it, but… well, his whole life had been cryptids and danger and adventure. It was hard to imagine anything different.

But then his eyes drifted back to you.

And suddenly, it wasn’t so hard at all.

"I…" He swallowed, looking away. "I think… as long as I have the right people with me, I’ll figure it out."

Silence.

Crap. That was so cheesy. He was going to DIE.

Then you smiled. Soft. Warm. Perfect.

"Yeah," you murmured. "I like that."

And just like that, Zak Saturday officially became the biggest lovesick idiot on the planet.

By the time the two of you found the cryptid pup’s home, the sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky painted in deep purples and blues. The little guy yipped happily as he scurried off to join his family, disappearing into the underbrush.

You sighed in contentment, stretching your arms. "Mission accomplished. Good job, partner."

Zak scratched the back of his neck. "Y-Yeah. We make a pretty good team."

You turned to him then, closer than he expected, and his breath hitched. The soft glow of the fireflies around you reflected in your eyes, and for a second, he thought—

Is this it? Is she gonna—?

But instead of a kiss, you just grinned and—

Flick!

Zak yelped as you booped his nose, giggling as he stumbled back.

"Tag, you’re it!" you declared before taking off.

Zak stood there, dumbfounded, before his brain finally rebooted.

"Oh, it’s on."

With a burst of energy, he chased after you, laughter echoing through the night.

He didn’t know what the future held. But right now? With you?

Yeah. He had a feeling everything would turn out just fine.

[tzigone]

So, I started thinking about Zachary's parents and ended up thinking about the extended Zatara family and magic

For my headcanon reboot. I lean rather Pre-COIE for Zatanna and Zatara in terms of personality. I have some issues with Sindrella and the homo magi setup, as I've mentioned before. And there are some changes to fit in the overall universe.

For reference, John Zatara is born in 1956, Zatanna in 1980 and Zachary in 1991.

But, despite leaning a pre-COIE way, I did want to include Zachary. So I thought they shouldn't be the only magic members of the family. So Luigi looked youngish when he gave John his magic tricks. So he's a young grandpa. So all four of Zatara's grandparents are alive when he realizes he has magical abilities. He has not only his little brother and parents, but aunts and uncles and cousins and great aunts and uncles and second cousins.

Well, he goes home when he gets a chance and has his other family members try magic. His brother and father have it and his mom doesn't, so they know it comes from dad's side. So they get other relatives to try. A great uncle, an aunt, and two first cousins (both younger - he's the oldest grandkid on that side) have magic.

But the others don't do exciting things with it like him. Dad, brother, grandpa and great uncle just live life on easy mode. Meals are magicked up. Car's gas tank is full for free. Clothes and appliances - look at a catalog and speak it. Home repairs and remodeling - easy-peasy. Zachary finds the family with such abilities living so mundanely just a waste - so incredibly boring. The aunt and her husband form a company and start flipping houses. Her husband does the research and paperwork and she speaks the dilapidated (or at least extremely outdated) into fashionable modernity - with shag carpeting, harvest gold appliances, and very nice wood wood paneling. Their kids were given good size profit interests of the company when they started, too. But that's still small-time compared to Zat's dreams.

I have some personalities and details on characters, including non-magic ones, but I doubt anyone cares much about that.

[makeyoumine69]

Before You Fade (Memory Reboot x3)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

SUMMARY: After moving to Chicago, you thought you had left your former life behind. But when you receive a mysterious invitation one day, you realize you still have unfinished business in New York.

CONTAINS: Smut, angst, mutual pining, obsessive behavior, desperate & sensual foreplay, anal fingering, penetrative & oral sex, biting, spanking, creampie, masturbating, mild praise kink & degradation, body worship, pet names, dirty talk, misogyny, swearing, gaslighting, manhandling, mind manipulation, cheating.

WORDS: 6.8k

SONG REC: VØJ, Narvent — Before You Fade

A/N: Hello everyone! A new chapter is finally here! This story has me in a chokehold! I highly recommend you to read the first chapter and the second one for a better understanding and as always I hope you like it! If you find any mistakes regarding gn!reader, please let me know!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST].

A new city, a new life, new people and new opportunities—all this was supposed to bring some relief, to ignite a new flame in your chest, to set a new goal, to make you forget everything that happened in New York. It was supposed to, but it never did.

After a few months of living in Chicago and working in a prestigious financial corporation, you began to notice that your life now looked like a vicious circle and the days blurred into one long day that never ended. That was probably the price you paid for running away, for being too cowardly to face the truth that what you shared with Bateman was not just a history—it was a goddamn passion and obsession that most people could only dream of. But you, you were not like them. For you, this obsession was like a plague, a disease, and you were sure that Patrick felt the same way. Still, the words he said that day were like scars on your mind. The poor guy really thought that you would stay with him, that you would miss a chance to reboot your life. Since you couldn't reboot the memory, this was the only way out.

Was that it?

The sleek interior of your office greeted you with the invigorating aroma of fresh coffee waiting for you on your desk made by your lovely assistant—a handsome guy named Vincent—he was quite modest but smart and sometimes you even thought you should have asked him out for something more serious than coffee. But then again, the shitty memories kept ruining all those weak impulses to try something new.

Sighing, you closed the door behind you and took off your coat, placing it on the nearby hanger and glancing at the beautiful bouquet of flowers on the small coffee table next to the big black couch. These flowers…you bought them for yourself just because you wanted them, not because you felt lonely or…

'Fuck, not again,' you shook your head, not giving yourself a chance to spiral again, knowing how quickly that could happen. Today was the worst day for self-digging, because you were going to present a final plan for a future quarter, and you couldn't fail. Not today, not ever. The moment you finally settled into your favorite armchair, you heard a soft knock at the door. You knew who it was even before you let the guest in.

Vincent, smiling as if he saw the brightest star in the midnight sky, opened the door and entered with cat-like grace. "Are you busy?"

Embarrassed by the man's persistent gaze, you folded your hands and leaned down on the table. "No, not really, I just came," you brought the coffee cup closer and wrapped your elegant fingers around its handle. "…and realized I have the best secretary in the world."

A sonorous chuckle rumbled from Vincent's chest. "Oh, you're too kind," the man walked into the office holding a pile of documents. "I brought you some fresh correspondence you might like to see."

"Uh, yes, thank you. Put it here, please."

The brown-haired secretary complied, and soon there was a large white envelope in front of you, next to the documents. There was something odd about having such a large envelope of mail since it was almost the end of the work week, but you just tapped your fingers on the smooth surface of the table in a slightly skeptical manner before turning your attention back to Vincent, who was standing in front of the desk, ready to assist you with anything you might ask.

"Anything else I can do?"

"I think that's about it for now," you answered, staring at the envelope from time to time out of the corners of your ears, sipping the hot drink and letting the warmth flow down your tensed body. "Oh, did you hear that our CEO won't be at the presentation today?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, he…has some unfinished business in LA…with a hot blonde chick."

You both laughed in unison, everything was clear as a bell. "Well, that sounds important." Vincent crossed his arms over his chest, the Oliver Peoples O'Malley glasses sitting perfectly on the bridge of his nose, though you tried not to focus on that little detail that constantly reminded you of Bateman. As if he was the only yuppie to wear such glasses. "Have you…"

As soon as Vincent started to speak, your phone rang—the loud sound even startled you a bit, but you quickly shook yourself and picked up the call, being extremely curious who could be calling you like this. "I'm listening."

"(Y/n)!" Paul Allen's cheerful timbre came from the other end of the line, making you almost jump in your seat.

"P-Paul?" You gave Vincent a worried look, and your nervousness seemed to affect your assistant as well, because he didn't look relaxed anymore. "Did something happen?"

"What? No! Of course not," Allen chuckled, and a female giggle could be heard in the background. "I'm calling to ask when we can see each other in New York…"

A noise grew louder, making it difficult to hear Paul's words, so you had to close one of your ears and furrow your brows in irritation. "Where are you calling from? A brothel? I can't fucking hear a word!"

Such a remark made Vincent laugh a little shyly, but then the man bowed his head and retreated in his professional, polite manner.

"Can you repeat…" You began to speak at the same time as Paul.

"…so when can we meet?"

Grumbling, you rolled your eyes. "Why did you even decide that I would visit New York?"

"Didn't you get the invitation to the wedding?" Paul's question made you feel something heavy in your stomach.

"Wedding? Who's wedding?"

There was a moment of silence that left you so nervous that you didn't even notice a pencil in your hands that was about to break because of how desperately you were squeezing it.

"Halberstram…" another pause, then another female snicker. All of it made you sick. "He's marrying a hardbody named… Cecilia, if I'm not mistaken."

Somehow you felt strangely relieved.

"But it's been several months since I quit, why was I invited?"

"Gee, (y/n)," now it was time for Paul to grumble a bit. "You think a few months are enough to forget you?" He laughed shamelessly into the phone. "Okay, okay, maybe I chose the wrong time to call you. But seriously, I'm looking forward to hanging out with you when you get here."

"Argh, fine," you muttered, finally letting go of the pencil only to grab the annoying envelope. "I'll call you later, today is really a fucked up day for me."

When you heard nothing but women laughing, you just hung up. 'God, it's only ten in the morning and Allen's already having fun. What am I doing wrong with my life?' You vented to yourself, twisting the envelope in your hands as if you were about to open Pandora's box.

With a deft move, you pulled out a postal knife and carefully cut open the envelope to gain access to its contents. Time stood still for you as your hands involuntarily reached for a beautifully decorated card that could definitely be a wedding invitation. After a short exhalation, you opened it and it took you several minutes to process what you had just seen, as you thought you were hallucinating.

The card had the following text:

“The honor of your presence is requested at the marriage of

Evelyn Arwyn Williams And Patrick Pierce Bateman

Saturday, the twentieth of October nineteen hundred and eighty-seven at twelve o'clock in the afternoon

Ziegfeld Ballroom 141 W 54th St New York, NY 10019.”

The card fell from your hands without any resistance. You felt dizzy, even nauseous, as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the office and you were literally suffocating.

'How dare…' you cursed to yourself, grabbing the collar of your blouse in a feint attempt to unbutton it from the burning itch on your skin, '…you…fucking bastard!'

Dazed, you stood up faster than you should have, making your head spin and nearly knocking you over if you hadn't leaned on the back of your chair. You need some fresh air or a sip of heavy alcohol or a fucking gram. Something that will take you out of this situation, even if only for a moment.

"Boss?" Vincent's worried voice came out of nowhere. "Are you okay?"

Panting, you shot an angry glance at your table, then at your lovely assistant, whose bright eyes were like two glowing beacons. "Vincent, listen," you stammered, unable to find the right words. "Can you please order me a ticket," you closed your eyes for a second, counted to ten and gripped the back of your chair. "…to New York."

"New York? Something wrong?"

"N-no," you managed to laugh off your tension and stop grazing the leather under your fingernails. "It's just… seems like I have some deals to settle in New York, some old ones I thought were closed."

"Only one ticket or…"

"I need a ticket in both directions, of course," you mumbled nervously before taking a coffee and finishing it in one go, thankfully it became less hot. "I won't be there for long," you said as if you were trying to convince yourself, desperately trying. It was only when you met Vincent's eyes that you noticed his sad look and realized that you might have upset him. "Uh, I really wish I could take you with me… but I want someone to look after things here and…"

The dark-haired man smiled sympathetically, and that helped to calm you a little. "Oh, please, don't apologize; it's my job," he said, visibly relaxed, considering his casual pose with his hands in the pockets of his Armani trousers. "I'm just worried about you, I don't want anything bad to happen."

Slightly embarrassed, you couldn't help but grin sincerely. "Ah, Vincent, you're such a sweetheart," you rumbled with undisguised amusement. "Everything will be fine. I promise, you have nothing to worry about."

"All right, then," Vincent pulled himself up and opened the door. "I'll let you know when I have information about your flights."

After that you were left alone again. The muffled din of the city outside the office could be heard faintly whenever you walked past the windows, restlessly making circles around the room.

'Maybe I should just ignore it? Maybe it's just a bad joke and I should call Tim and ask him about it?' You covered your face with your palms before sighing tiredly. Once again, Bateman was forcing you to make strange decisions and you hated it. You hated him, you hated the wedding that hasn't even happened yet, and you hated yourself for being so easily overwhelmed.

No way in hell did you expect to visit New York too soon after you left the city and everything that happened there behind your back the moment you took your seat in an airplane to Chicago. And who would dare to judge you for that? Right, no one but you.

The wedding was supposed to be tomorrow, so you had some time to prepare for… for what? Yawning, you stretched your legs in the uncomfortable backseat of the taxi, the driver asking you where you were from and if you had ever been to New York. And at some point you felt sad because you really wanted to say no, you haven't. But you did, and only God knew how hard it had been for you to survive the past months of constant self-digging and dead-end conversations with your vicious subconscious.

Thanks to Vincent, you didn't have to worry about where to stay in New York, as he booked you a luxury suit at the Plaza Hotel. Ah, Vincent…that boy was so sweet that sometimes you could even believe in supernatural beings, as if life was trying to make amends for the unpleasant situation with Bateman.

Sitting on the big bed, you tried your best not to have a panic attack or, even worse, go crazy and empty the minibar, drinking as much as you could as if tomorrow would never come. 'Gosh, I'd sell my soul to see Bateman's face if I came to the wedding being completely drunk.’ With a silly smile on your face, you kept dreaming about some nonsense to distract yourself until the night came and you had to get some sleep before the wedding.

The next day started terribly when some random maid came early and mixed up your suit with someone else's. In the end, you couldn't say that you were rested enough, but you didn't have much time and you still had to come up with an idea for your outfit. 'Should I wear something extravagant or perhaps something more modest?' You spun around in front of the large mirror, the clock was ticking and that sound was really getting on your nerves.

"Uh, to hell with it…" you cursed to yourself and finally picked out a blue Gucci suit that fit your figure perfectly. "I don't want to overshadow the groom."

Winking at your own reflection, you added a few accessories before leaving the Plaza, where a beautiful Cadillac was waiting for you. A driver opened the back door for you, smiled politely, and at some point you even began to think that this day wouldn't be as shitty as it promised to be.

By the time you arrived at the Ziegfeld Ballroom, it was already quite crowded, with many luxury cars lining the street, delivering more and more stylishly dressed guests. With a heavy heart, you held an invitation in your hand and fought the urge to tear it apart and tell the driver to drive away. The sudden appearance of Courtney and Luis in your vision pulled you out of your doubts. 'So that bastard even invited Courtney,' you hummed and slowly opened the door to get out of the car.

All the way to the Ziegfeld Ballroom, you tried to be careful not to bump into anyone you didn't really want to interact with, like Timothy, Craig, David, Paul… Even though you were sure it was going to happen one way or another, you still didn't want to face reality too soon.

Inside the huge hall, you stopped near the long banquet table decorated with white and red roses—the whole style of the wedding screamed Evelyn. Nothing special, though, Bateman probably didn't care about such things as wedding decorations.

Taking a glass of champagne, you moved deeper into the hall and watched the guests split into groups. Still, you were lucky because you didn't see any familiar faces, even Luis and Courtney got lost somewhere among the faceless yuppies and their dates. Everything seemed fine, you had a plan to see the couple get married and then… slip away? It was such a stupid plan, but at least you had one.

Puzzled, you told yourself to leave all thoughts to the latter, when you wouldn't be so vulnerable, staying in the middle of the ballroom and watching the several waitresses bringing more and more appetizers. You were even about to try one of them when you accidentally noticed Tim and Craig coming your way. Trembling, you almost dropped the glass, but somehow you managed to put it on the nearby table, startling a waitress with your erratic behavior, but you didn't care.

As fast as you could, you rushed in a different direction from the group of your former friends, desperately searching for any room you could get into. Your pulse pounded in your eardrums, forcing you to open the first door and enter.

Breathing heavily, you pressed your back against the door and closed your eyes for a second, only to open them in a blood-chilling shock as you met a pair of hazel, dark eyes as bewildering as your own.

"You?" Bateman's startled voice bounced off the walls of the small bathroom, his face frozen in a confused grimace as if he couldn't believe his eyes. "What the fuck are you doing in here?"

"Me? You invited me, you fool!" You barked back, pulling away from the door and moving toward the brown-haired man. "Have you forgotten already?"

Patrick looked absolutely stunning in his wedding tuxedo, the black bow tie being the cherry on top of his impeccably styled appearance. For a brief moment, Bateman studied your angry expression, his thick eyelashes batting like bird wings.

"It was Evelyn," he replied curly, standing still. "How delusional you must be to think I would invite you?"

Crossing his arms, Patrick smiled, and at first glance he seemed calm, but his slightly trembling lips betrayed him. With a soft chuckle, you moved closer until you noticed a beautiful bride's bouquet—a combination of roses again.

"So did Evelyn get what she wanted? I can see her in every little detail of this wedding. The Ziegfeld Ballroom was her idea too?"

The man sighed wearily and rubbed the bridge of his nose briefly. "No, my mother insisted."

"Oh," you beamed, carefully taking the bouquet in your noticeably shaking hands. "How sweet."

With a quick movement, Patrick snatched the flowers out of your hands and placed them back on the bathroom counter. "I had to walk around with this bouquet like an idiot, because I didn't even see Evelyn all this time!"

Such an outburst made you pause for a moment. "Relax, Bateman," you pretended to cheer him up. "Soon you'll be a family man."

The words forced him to clench his teeth as if they caused him physical pain. "Why did you come here, (y/n)?"

"Do you have any ideas?"

The distance between the two of you became smaller and smaller, melting like ice under the burning sun. You didn't even notice that every time he spoke, you couldn't take your eyes off his plump lips, his perfectly shaped chin that you wanted to touch, the way his eyebrows curled… God, you shouldn't have come here in the first place…

"I'm not gonna play your games anymore," Patrick suddenly blurted out, pulling you out of your lewd dreams. "If you came here just to get on my nerves, I'll tell security to kick you out."

"Woah, woah," you jerked back as Bateman stepped closer, your foreheads almost bumping into each other. "You seem very tense, marriage is a stressful thing, right?"

You continued to back away until you hit the wall behind you, and in the next second, the man caught you between his arms, placing them on either side of your trembling little form.

"Bateman?" You asked him breathlessly.

Frowning, he leaned down. You thought he was going to kiss you, but he just gasped and turned away. "I hate you," those words hurt you more than you could ever imagine. "Do you see these hands?" He asked, raising his hand and bringing it closer to your face. "I could break your neck so easily and watch your dead body fall to the ground."

A creeping fear rippled through your chest as he spoke. "You're kidding, right?" You tried to make a joke out of it, but as he tightened his grip around your throat like an iron ring, a muffled whimper escaped your tense lungs. "Ahh, w-what…"

Instead of actually hurting you, the dark-haired man brought you closer, so that your lips finally collided and the way you kissed was beyond any normalcy of kissing. Growling like a beast, Patrick literally bit into your trembling lips, almost tearing the soft flesh away, his grasp on your neck never loosening, only tightening when you dared to hug his shoulders, snuggling against him.

"Fuck," you cursed as he pulled away to nip at your neck. "You… scared the shit out of me! You psy…"

His hand abruptly covered your mouth, not letting you finish what you were about to say. "You came here because you couldn't forget me, huh? Because you are so fucking miserable in Chicago and no one gives a fuck about you?"

With your eyes shut tight, you whimpered against his palm at the faint physical contact with his hard groin. It was already too much, but then you heard a soft click of the door lock. 'Am I really going to die?' The thought alone made your knees weak. Meanwhile, Bateman was nuzzling against your cheek, inhaling your scent like an animal in rut, and you couldn't do anything, trapped in the strong arms you'd been dreaming about all these months.

The question he asked hung in the air for some time, even after Patrick removed his hand, waiting for your answer, you couldn't speak because… he was right. But to admit it would mean that you had lost. Lost in your own game.

"Why did you run away from me?" The man asked unexpectedly, his whole mood changing from wild to sad, bordering on despair. "Tell me!"

"I thought it would be better for both of us, okay?" You hated yourself for not finding better words, but it was so damn hard to think in a situation like this. "And I still think so."

With a wry grin, the man distanced himself a bit. "And that's why you're here with me… in some random bathroom… in the middle of my wedding?"

It did look familiar. That fleeting moment you gave in to temptation in the Tunnel that changed your life forever and for which you're still paying the price.

"You don't love her, do you?" You didn't even recognize your own voice.

"It's none of your business," Bateman replied before lowering his palm to your hip and squeezing it. "Now get on your knees, I don't have much time."

The audacity of this man was unbearable. Embarrassed but extremely aroused, you stifled a moan from the way he stroked your ass, encouraging you to obey. Biting your lower lip, you remembered how delicious this man tasted—a memory that haunted you every day—you should have resisted, you should have just stopped everything here and now, because there would be no happy ending.

‘I should have, but I can't,’ these six words flashed through your cloudy mind as you slid down the wall to meet the visible bulge in Patrick's tight pants.

"Good, good," he praised, casually unfastening his jacket and then his belt, just as you saw his white suspenders hugging his shoulders so deliciously that you had to hold your breath. "God, if I knew Evelyn was going to give me a wedding present like that, I'd postpone the wedding."

"You're a sick man," you murmured, but he just chuckled. "I hope you know that?"

"So are you.”

There was a small lounge chair in the other corner of the bathroom, and the moment Bateman saw it, you knew what he would do. Smirking mischievously, the man lifted you up with practiced ease and moved you to the chair, sitting down and spreading his toned legs so you could take your place between them. Patrick used all the self-control he had left to undo his pants without actually tearing them apart, his erection jutting out the moment he lowered the confines of his garments.

This scene made you lick your lips with undisguised hunger. Slowly, you leaned down between his wide-open legs and teasingly took his swollen tip into your mouth, then pulled away. "You're going to marry a woman who can't suck you off better than me, aren't you?"

Instead of taunting you back, the man grabbed the back of your head and made you take him deeper until your nose rubbed against his thick pubic hair, but it was still not enough, his cock was too big.

"Ahhh, what's that? Your mouth is too small to take me in?" Bateman commented cheekily as he watched your eyes get wet as you gagged. "You can only use it to say shit, but when it comes to real business…" the man pushed into your mouth again, fixing your head in one place. "…it doesn't seem to be useful."

"Mhmm," you tried to slip out of his grip, but he held you deadly tight. At one point you even wanted to use your teeth, but fortunately a loud commotion from outside attracted Patrick's attention and he let you go. "You…you are so pathetic…" you coughed several times, understanding that your end was near. "Even in a moment like this…you can't keep quiet! Like a fucking chatterbox…"

You wanted to say something else, but the way Bateman's dick pressed against your cheek, the weight of it, the warmth, it was all too overwhelming for both you and him, considering how tense Patrick's face was when you let his erection slide along your jaw as you descended lower to tease his sensitive balls with your tongue.

"Oh-fuck…" The man gasped, tilting his head back to lean against the wall and mumbling something incoherently.

Ashamed of what you were doing, you paused for a second, wondering what consequences awaited the two of you in the future. But all your attempts to stop yourself from falling into the abyss of consuming depravity were mercilessly crushed by reality— Bateman, all spread out for you, his cheeks blushing slightly as he enjoyed the oral pleasure you were giving him. This reality hit too hard. After all, you were enjoying that dick as well.

"So let it happen," you murmured suddenly before you wrapped your wet lips, covered with your saliva and his pre-cum, around his blushing shaft once more, your hands still rubbing his heavy sac. His skin was so soft there that you literally wanted to scream.

"W-what?" The man asked suddenly, as if he had just woken up from the enticing spell. "What are you talking about… are you so cock drunk that your brain can't function?"

At first, dirty talk like that could be really arousing, but now, hearing it for the hundredth time in a row, it was more amusing than hot. Without saying anything, you raised your eyes to him, your sneaky fingers delving deeper between his legs to stroke the rim of his tight muscles. A throaty moan escaped his suddenly dry lips. 'Cock drunk, huh?' You were proud of yourself, having a man like Patrick in a chokehold with your deliberate ministrations.

"Look at you, Bateman, you're such a naughty boy who loves it when someone plays with his ass?" You teased in between heavy gasps, as sucking such a huge cock was quite a challenge. "Does Evelyn even know about this?

Clenching his teeth, he tried to pull at your hair, but you dodged, pressing your finger persistently against his tight asshole before gently probing it, and you could swear to God, if heaven really existed, you wanted Patrick's moans to be music there.

"Uh, you're such a brat, babe," that nickname made you freeze. "This is going to end you one day…" His eyes rolled back into his head as you pushed your finger deeper into him, using a small amount of liquid on it as a lubricant. "(Y/n), you seem to need to bother your hands with something else…" you gave him a questioning look and he grinned in satisfaction, admiring the way his veiny, leaking dick slipped in and out of your lips. "Touch yourself… I know you want to…"

Fucking bastard. Why did he have to say it now? His words involuntarily triggered the memories of the lonely nights you spent in Chicago, masturbating almost every day when you thought of Patrick, telling yourself that he probably did the same. After all, maybe that was true?

As you pulled his cock out of your wet mouth, you quickly undid your belt and then your pants, pulling them down like an obstacle standing between you and mind-blowing pleasure. Locking your eyes with his walnut ones, you got up and tugged at the lapels of his jacket, forcing him to bend over so you could kiss him. Bateman didn't flinch, kissing you back, tasting himself on your lips and sucking on your tongue as you moaned shamelessly. Afterwards, you slipped a finger into his mouth and he licked it obediently before taking it inside.

"Oh, Patrick," you gasped before sitting down. "Why can't it be like this all the time?"

The brown-haired man smiled, exactly that smile that could make you commit a crime, how charming it was, it made you want to cry here and now.

Silently, Patrick leaned down to take your hand and place it between your legs, then he took your other hand and brought it back to his engorged dick, forcing you to resume your ministrations and from that moment on, you just let yourself go.

Rubbing your most sensitive spot, you whimpered and closed your eyes as you jerked him off, feeling the drops of his warm pre-cum dripping down your palm. Your orgasm was looming somewhere near, but it felt like the pleasure of your own hand was not enough. Bateman, as if he could read your mind, suddenly lifted you up by your shoulders, made you straddle him, and in the next moment you let him impale you on his thick cock, giving you the abundance you thought you had lost forever. A loud shriek echoed off the marble walls of the bathroom, a sound that made Patrick grin even more arrogantly as he knew that no one but him could make you feel complete.

He fucking knew it.

Groaning, the man grabbed your hips and set the pace, and at some point you found yourself riding him with pure abandon, literally bouncing on his beefy cock. "A-ahhh, Patrick, yes! Fuck-fuck me, just like that!" You mewled into his ear as he spanked your ass, squeezed your buttocks and spread them. "Mmhm…holy…shit…"

Another slap made you tremble on his lap. "So fucking needy for me," Bateman purred in a husky voice, his hair a mess, you managed to undo his bow tie and several top buttons to stroke his bulging chest. "Argh, you gonna make me cum, babe."

With that, he began to thrust his hips up, meeting yours with a shameless slapping sound. Dumbfounded, you were also so close, but you wanted him to fall first. Passionately rocking back and forth, you wrapped your hands around his neck, catching him off guard.

"You…you missed me just like I missed you…" That was more a statement than a question but the man didn't say anything, he just nodded with his eyes closed as he was completely lost in the embrace of incoming rapture. "SAY IT!" You nearly beat him into his chest. "Say…it…you bastard!"

Your crying compelled him to open his brown eyes which now were so dark, you could draw in them. "Yeah…" Each word was so hard for him to pronounce as his hips began to shake. "…I…I've missed you…too!" Patrick had to hide his face into the crook of your neck and before you knew it, the man bit into your soft flesh to the point of blood.

"A-AWWW, PATRICK!" You whimpered when you felt him exploding inside of you, shooting his hot load and sinking his teeth even deeper, holding you tightly in his strong arms.

"Shhh," the man strived to shush you, licking the fresh wound on your throat. "Just…take it…"

Still trembling, Bateman squeezed your hips so painfully, that you instinctively tried to pull away but he didn't allow you to. Sobbing, you cursed yourself for forgetting how rough he could be or…maybe you simply didn't know about this side of him? By the time Patrick stopped shaking, you were pumped with his seed till the brink, it was pouring out, staining the furniture beneath you, but no one cared. You sat like that for a moment until you began to move again as you still didn't reach your climax. With every buck of your hips against his, you hoped he would understand what you were asking for, but as soon as you reached out to kiss him, the man indifferently pulled away, tapping on your hip.

"Get up," Patrick commanded you, a bit annoyed.

"W-what?"

Bateman didn't repeat, taking you off from his lap before standing up on his feet and zipping his pants. Lost and confused, you sat on the floor, watching him sliding his hair back, opening the faucet and cleaning his face.

What the fuck was that?

"Bateman?" You stammered, finding yourself in the most humiliating position ever.

"You better clean yourself up, too," he commented briefly without looking at you, his voice drenched in venom. "You don't want the guests to think someone brought a hooker here, do you?"

Furrowing your brows, you ran a hand down your tear streaked cheek. "You're going to stop talking to me like that, or…"

"Or what?"

Anger and despair mixed together in a cocktail of pure madness. You wanted to fucking beat this man until he begged for mercy, but unfortunately, it was you sitting on the cold floor with your bare ass, his cum flowing shamelessly between your thighs.

"Fucking scumbag!" You yelled, picking up your shoe to throw it at him, but he quickly moved aside. "You're going to regret this…pathetic…"

Bateman started to say something but was distracted by several female voices. He checked himself in the mirror for the last time and finally spared you with his pitiful look. "You're going to walk around my WEDDING with my SEED inside you. Maybe you should look in the mirror and think about who's really pathetic in this room?"

And then he left.

Being left like that has set your body on fire, your nervous system was on the verge of bursting, but you managed to pull yourself together, gritting your teeth to suppress a loud scream. You felt nauseous, the bite on your neck was bleeding and aching, you were even afraid to touch it. Knowing that the door was now unlocked, you couldn't sit there any longer, so you gathered all the strength you had left to pull yourself up and get dressed. Then you slowly moved to the place where Patrick had been standing moments ago…but it felt like it had been so long ago, as time had stopped. After you cleaned yourself, you were really lucky to find a first aid kit, so you managed to clean your wound as well.

The ceremony had already begun when you finally decided to leave the bathroom. Dazed, you stumbled around like you were drunk. You couldn't remember how you found your way to the main event, where a large altar awaited the newlyweds.

All the guests were in their seats, and you moved stealthily, trying not to attract unwanted attention. The last row of chairs was almost empty, and when you suddenly recognized Timothy Bryce, lonely sitting there, you didn't hesitate to sit next to him.

"Well, well, well," you mused, a little cheered up. "Hello, Bryce."

The dark-haired man almost jumped in his seat when he saw you. "Jesus Christ, (y/n)? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Mmhm, Evelyn invited me."

Timothy visibly grew sadder. " Right…she probably tried to invite all the people in New York."

This sudden change in his demeanor confused you. "Tim? What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

The music began to play exactly when you opened your mouth to ask some more curious questions. Soon, the priest and several other people appeared in the alley. They walked up to the altar, everyone around was excited to see the main stars of this event. And as if that were not enough, some women in front of you began to cheer so loudly that you had to cover your ears.

"Stupid bitches." Tim grumbled as he sat back.

"Craig and David…where are they?"

Bryce pointed to other seats that were almost next to the altar. "They're with their chicks and they want the best seats."

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, avoiding craning your neck when it wasn't needed because it still hurt. "I see…and I thought they were doing coke without you."

"They did."

"Really? And what about you?"

The man sighed. "No coke is enough to get lost."

Now it was even stranger.

Another loud reaction from the guests signaled that something was starting to happen. You have to stand up a little to see the tall figure moving down the alley—it was Bateman, looking like he was not the one who fucked you in the small bathroom an hour ago. The way he smiled at the guests made you want to puke. Timothy noticed your trepidation and narrowed his eyes curiously.

"Are you okay?" He asked, not paying attention to what was happening near the altar. "You look unhealthy."

"I… I'm fine, it's just… it's very hot in here." You wanted to loosen your collar, but then you remembered the bite, so you had to sit like that.

In a few minutes the music changed and then Evelyn appeared, accompanied by her father who led her to the altar where Patrick was waiting for her. You held your breath and bit the inside of your cheek, but you forced yourself to look at the way Bateman took Evelyn's hands in his, touching them with absolute tenderness. A single drop of sweat trickled down your forehead and you probably intended to chew your cheek until it bled, but you didn't care. Nothing mattered now, nothing could hurt you, you felt like a ghost destined to walk the earth in search of its salvation. Only when the priest said that the newlyweds could kiss now, you turned away and so did Tim.

When the official part of the ceremony was over, Patrick and Evelyn walked out of the room towards an unknown destination, you and Bryce just sat there, not even talking, just sitting, as if you had nowhere to go.

"I'll get us some drinks." Timothy suddenly rumbled and stood up as quickly as the idea had occurred to him.

You didn't even have a chance to answer. You closed your eyes and rubbed your face tiredly when you heard a child's voice next to you. Turning sideways, you opened your eyes to see a little girl with a small bag in her hands. "Oh, hi…could you please repeat what I need to do?"

The girl smiled and opened the bag in an inviting gesture. "Pull your hand in and choose your destiny advice!" Giggling, you did as she said. Soon you were unfolding a small piece of paper. "What does it say?" The girl asked with undisguised curiosity.

After you rolled up the paper completely, you could read the text. "Find the courage to face your destiny." You swallowed nervously, on the verge of tears again.

"You didn't like it?" The little girl asked you, her face turning sad as well.

"No! Of course not, thank you very much!" You tried to smile. "You're so sweet, thank you!"

The girl suddenly hugged you. "Please don't be sad!"

And with that, the little child picked up her bag and ran to another person, doing the same thing she did to you. Nervously holding the piece of paper in your sweaty hands, you reread the text until several wet stains appeared on the paper. 'I am such a fool.' Wiping away tears, you heard several footsteps behind you. 'God, what if it's him?'

Excited, you turned to see Tim holding two cocktails. "They don't have anything strong."

You took the drink and watched Bryce sitting next to you. "Thanks Tim."

"No problem," he took a sip before looking at the piece of paper in your hands. "What is this?"

"Uh, nothing, just a childish game." You mumbled and took a sip of your cocktail.

After a minute of total silence, Timothy suddenly rested his arm on the back of his chair. "You know, maybe some coke is not such a bad idea after all," he looked at you, his dull eyes now glinting with a mischievous spark. "And since you're here… do you have any plans?"

"No," you replied frankly. "I… I have no plans, Bryce."

Nodding to himself, the man sat a little closer. "What about you coming to my place?"

Fidgeting in your chair, you wanted to turn to face him, but instead you hissed in pain, how crazy must the man be to leave such a mark? You crumpled the piece of paper in your fist and felt your nails digging into your skin, but still no pain came.

"Why not?" You finally replied, giving Bryce a smile he couldn't ignore as he smiled back.

'When one door closes, another always opens.' Was that what the taxi driver told you yesterday? A quote that had made you cringe in skepticism now played with different colors. But in the end, life was a good thing, even when you thought it was not.

Right?

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[sempiternalmuze]

Hi, I saw you are open for Eddie Roundtree requests, so here's my idea.

So reader is an actress or actor and they basically meet at an event and just have a one nightstand and Eddie just gets fond of them and asks them on a date.

Hope I'm not bothering you with this

kiss you fool!

eddie roundtree/loving x f!reader

description: req!

word count: 1.5k

warning(s): none

a/n: hi! sorry this took so long to respond to, but pls its no bother at all!! I actually had a lot of fun thinking about this one and rewrote it a few times. And I ALMOST wrote smut but I decided it would be better suited for another time. Please enjoy and remember, reboots and likes help <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: . . :☆ﾟ. ─── ➶ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: . . :☆ﾟ. ───

The music that was blasting throughout the house was disorienting on its own, but mixed with a few lines, too many beers, and the aftermath of a sold out show at the bar downtown, Eddie was starting to feel the effects of it all as he stumbled through the living room.

Bodies were pressed up against one another, the air in the room was lacking, despite every door and window in the house being open. The Six had opened their home up to the limited music scene they had made connections with, an attempt to get their name out there, as well as an excuse to drink and party.

Eddie smiled lazily as he found his way onto the couch, sitting in the middle of it, head thrown back. His hair was a mess, the mix of sweat and alcohol only made the pounding in his chest faster.

He felt the couch next to him sink in, looking over he found you. Your hair was up, away from your face, a drink in your hand that made the rings scattered around your fingers shine as you lifted the cup to your lips.

Eddie was a bit dazed by you if he was being honest. The way the low lighting of the house played against your makeup, the way you looked around the party, eyes scanning for something - or someone - made him curious.

"How did a pretty thing like yourself stumble in here?" Eddie shouted, the music almost enough to drown him out.

You looked over at him. His eyes were shiny, glazed. He was high, and his sudden words had caught you off guard. But you recognized him instantly. He was the bassist of one of Teddy's bands. You'd only seen them once or twice in the studio, and had spoken to Billy a handful of times, but you were too busy trying to find your own way in the fame scene.

You gave him a small smile, not wanting to judge too quickly about the powder around his nose.

"The front door was open, and I figured that the rock stars would have something fun to drink." He let out a laugh, nodding his head, wiping his nose clean with his sleeve.

"Yeah, we wanted to welcome the community into our home. I'm in a band you know?"

You nodded, playing along, pretending you could have no possible clue who he was.

"Really?"

"Oh yeah, you know we're nothing special yet, just working on an album right now but I mean…I am pretty good if I say so myself." He held a hand up, playing up on his sarcasm and faux chilled nature.

You rolled your eyes, taking another swig of your drink, shaking your head, "Who are you signed with?"

Eddie sat up at this question, more surprised that that was the first question you asked him, rather than what band he was in.

"With um, Runner Records, specifically we're working with Teddy Price. He," Eddie could feel the high drifting away from him, his mind trying to focus on the conversation you two were working your way on, "He's the only one that thought we might have a chance. Why do you ask?" He asked, unsure if the words he was saying even made sense.

“I know Teddy. He’s a sweetheart, he’s been trying to help me get my own thing out here. I’m acting.” You smiled, placing the empty cup back on the table.

He stuck his hand towards you, "It's nice to meet you. I’m Eddie."

You took his invitation, shaking his hand. The party goers came and went, people leaving to their own homes and apartments, or finding somewhere to sleep in the house itself.

Eventually you found yourself and Eddie alone, the music nothing but a lazy guitar coming from the porch. Eddie had told you about his childhood, how he had become quick friends with Graham, and moved out to LA as much as it broke his heart to leave behind his family. You told him about how you had packed it all up one day, found Teddy, and got lucky. You both found that note similar between you two, both of you felt that you had been more lucky than likely deserved. He was a hard ass who wished he had more power over his sound, you were always trying to find the best path for yourself and your career.

Eventually you two found yourselves bumping shoulders, leaning into one another.

"I should get going." You whispered. You were looking down at his hand which sat resting against your leg, rubbing soft circles against your knee. He was so gentle, which threw you for a loop considering the absolute asshole he could be at a moment's notice. But he had been nothing but sweet, and inviting.

“Why don’t you stay the night?” He asked, looking down at your face. Eddie was starting to feel something deep in his chest. The drinks and the drugs were long gone, replaced by something he felt was much stronger. He felt relaxed, which was hard to do in a house filled with 20 somethings that were up on drugs, drinks, and energy.

You returned the glance, smiling coyly. “You asking me to spend the night? Haven't even bought me dinner yet.” Your eyes traveled down to his lips, unable to resist the way they turned into a coy smile.

He laughed but it didn’t deter him. His hand moved past your knee, sliding his fingers gently across your thigh, your breath caught as his lips lingered closer to your neck, whispering, “I’ll do anything you want.”

Within a moment something changed, and eventually you and Eddie were tripping over the solo cups and discarded decorations, forcing your way into any room that was yet to be occupied until you eventually found one. It was quiet and in an area in the far back of the house that you were sure that no one wouldn’t stumble upon you two.

You pulled away for a moment catching your breath as Eddie leaned his head next to you on the door. He stared down at you, his eyes tracing over your lips, down to your neck. His fingers run softly against your sides, toying with the hem of your shirt until his fingers hooked themselves in your jeans loops, pulling you closer to him.

“You're so pretty sweetheart.” He mumbled.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: . . :☆ﾟ. ─── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: . . :☆ﾟ. ───

The next morning came bright and loud, with the banging of pans and drums. You shifted, letting out a low groan at the disturbances, rolling over until you stopped, feeling the chest of a warm body next to your own.

Your eyes shot open to find a sleeping Eddie, resting gently against the pillow, hair a mess and covering his face in a way that just perfectly captured his jaw and eyes. You couldn’t help but stare at him for a moment, the way that his eyebrow was frozen in a pointed way that made you question if he was actually sleeping or anticipating your next move. His lips parted slightly, and a soft beauty mark rested just above it.

A knock at the door brought you back to your senses, someone calling to Eddie that he had to get up for a meeting in the city. You took that as your cue, collecting your garments from the floor, redressing yourself as quietly as you could.

Or you thought, until you felt two strong arms wrap themselves around your waist, then a scruffy face leaning against your shoulder.

“Good morning sweetheart. Did you sleep well?” He asks, his morning voice making you smile. He lays a soft kiss against your shoulder, sending chills down your body. You almost want to try to encourage a part two of the night before but elect to take your leave, not wanting to be the kind that tries to hang out after what could be seen as a one night stand.

“I’ve gotta head out. I’m sure I’ve missed a few calls by now.” You turn, facing him. He looks even better awake, staring back at you with a soft pout. You lean down, tracing his jawline with your fingers, pulling him in for a soft kiss.

You smile, whispering a small, “Bye Eddie.”

You stand, ready to do a walk of shame through the house, until his fingers wrap around your wrist, gently.

“Wait” He says, “I’ll walk you out.”

Eddies gets dressed, then the two of you walk out of his room, to the front door. There’s a few people scattered around the living room. The two girls smile, giving you a wave that you return. Eddie opens the front door, arm wrapped loosely around your waist.

Your turn to face him, smiling as you try to find the right words to say.

But he speaks first. “Please tell me I can see you again.” He says. It's almost a question, almost a soft begging from him.

“Don’t worry, I think you will.” You giggle, grabbing your bag strap nervously.

“Could I take you out to dinner?” He smiles, lifting his eyebrow, meeting your eyes with his soft brown ones.

You roll your eyes, grabbing the collar of his shirt, pulling him into another much more chaste kiss. You pull away, hand resting against his chest.

“Is that answer enough?” He nods, a dumbfounded look on his face. “Eddie, relax, I can feel your heart beating.”

[quibbs126]

So I ended up watching the Galvatron therapy episode, aka Webworld

I just want to list my thoughts on it, because why not

Note that I’ve never gotten much farther than like, Episode 10 of g1, so I have absolutely no context for what’s happening around this time in the story other than some basic stuff

Okay so first off, I can kind of see why people may not like the later portion of g1, I’m not sure it’s my cup of tea either. From what I understand it takes place mostly in space, with a lot of new planets and aliens, and not that much Earth. I kind of don’t like that, wish they just stayed on Earth, maybe with some Cybertron in there too. Also all these alien designs make me feel more like I’m watching He-Man or She-Ra more than I’m watching Transformers (I actually did watch a good chunk of the original She-Ra show some years ago after the reboot was over, so I do actually have a leg to stand on here)

Also kind of wish I had subtitles so I could understand what half of the things being said were, like what was actually going on with Galvatron’s brain and how he got out of the lobotomy (so basically the sci-fi mumbo jumbo), but I think that’s just an issue of the platform I watched it on more than anything. And maybe a personal over-reliance on subtitles

Anyways, on to the actual episode

Small thing but I really like this new ship the Autobots have, I think his name is Sky Lynx? He’s a dinosaur but also a space shuttle and their mode of transportation, and quite frankly I think that’s just cool as shit

Second, Cyclonus is immediately a favorite of mine, I see why people like him (and also why some people ship him and Galvatron). He just genuinely was concerned for Galvatron, but also was trying to reason with him when he was making poor decisions, not just going with whatever Galvatron said. Maybe part of it is that he’s a good change of pace for me as an actual very loyal second in command for the Decepticons while also being pretty competent on top of that. Also also, I like his voice on top of that

I think for whatever reason I never expect depth from the g1 characters, so when they any amount of it I’m so shocked

Now on to Galvatron. Okay yeah, man’s definitely not mentally well. Cyclonus had to basically herd him there by making him think the Autobots were on the therapy planet. They feel like that “sure grandma, let’s get you to bed” meme

But also, that scene of the therapy monkey guys about to lobotomize him. He was begging to be freed and he sounded so distressed, he even added “please” at the end. I know he’s the bad guy, and maybe context would make me not feel this way, but am I not supposed to feel bad for him here? Free my man

Like yeah, he definitely needs help, but honestly after all that I don’t think I blame the Decepticons for not trying again to get him some. If my leader got nearly forcefully lobotmized like that from the first mental health resource I gave a chance to (and I also don’t really know much about how mental health care works in the first place), I wouldn’t try that again. Also he probably wouldn’t fall for it as easily the second time around

I also found it kind of funny when he managed to construct a gun during one of his attempted treatments to try and get out, and it was I assume his immediate first thought as to what to build. But also I think I saw someone make a post about this and how it may have in part been because he used to transform into a gun as Megatron. I think the intent was just “he makes gun because he’s violent”, but I just thought that was an interesting tidbit, angsty too

Anyways yeah. Don’t really like all the alien part of it, but the episode was neat. Bring Galvatron back so he can get his proper medical health care

[nogacheloveka-blog]

The Bad Sanses somehow ended up in the Backrooms. №11

<-Switch to Russian ver.

next 12

prev 10

This is the translation of the another post from Russian to English. I understand English, but it is very difficult for me to write in English, so I asked chat GPT to help me. I have corrected some parts, but there still may be mistakes.

Okay, I realize I get a strange pleasure from drawing sleeping Sanses. Not the worst fetish ¯\_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_/¯.

I like to think of Nightmer and Dream as the "Deity of Negative Emotions" and the "Deity of Positive Emotions." Why not?

For this part, I decided to create a MindMap and input all the information I hold in my head for each of the characters. Wow, turns out I've been forgetting so much about my boys all this time. For example, I constantly confused the sleeve where Killer's thread from Error is attached (it should be on the right sleeve, not the left). In addition, I've started to better understand the characters' personalities and my canon in which I make them live.

In this part, I decided to experiment with describing events from different perspectives (I left notes in the form of emojis). =)

Caution: there is a description of injuries involving Nightmer (🌙).

I often listen to playlists while working on parts, hope you enjoy this one :)

Having avoided a fight with people, the group continued on until they found a place where Error could safely exit his reboot. It turned out to be a break room for employees, complete with a water cooler. Someone had taken and carried away the water container, likely individuals from the nearby settlement. This was a good sign as it meant that people wouldn't be exploring this area anytime soon.

The office plants had stretched towards the lamps and withered. Otherwise, this room resembled a small, ransacked cafeteria: all the kitchen cabinets were open, appliances either broken or stolen, spices scattered on the floor (Horror shook his head disapprovingly). However, there were still tables, chairs, and a comfortable couch.

🌙 As the Destroyer's loading bar slowly crawled from 50% to 58%, Nightmare decided to try drinking Almond Water. There was a chance it could help with the issues he had discovered in his mind before. He took the closed tin can in his hands and opened it. A quiet splash was heard. The subtle almond scent, which now constantly surrounded his subordinates, hit his receptors. The thin metal felt cool in his hands. He didn't feel anything strange, and even the Check didn't report anything alarming.

But as the liquid poured into his mouth, he screamed from the unexpected pain. It was awful. As if boiling acid had been poured into an open wound. Like the pain from Dream's arrows. His mind clouded so much that he couldn't even spit out the liquid - it sizzled down his chin onto his chest. The shroud of negativity on him boiled in response to the damage and anger (despair), causing the outlines of his body to blur, as if wax on a candle. The shroud around his jaws dissolved and flowed to his feet in a black, smoking puddle. The bones of the former (deceased) Nightmare's skull were briefly exposed but quickly concealed by a new layer of darkness.

In a desperate attempt to prevent the liquid from burning him further, the Guardian transformed into a pool of negativity and recoiled to the side. The Almond Water can spilled onto the floor.

-15 HP

It didn't feel like "-15 HP". It felt like the damn breath of agonizing death. It was a good thing he hadn't swallowed it. He didn't want to imagine something with a sweet nutty scent searing his insides. "-15 HP" seemed like a joke to his huge health pool, but he didn't want to experience something like that again. The phantom flashes of pain in his mouth faded as the lost HP slowly regenerated. His subordinates looked at him in shock, and their horror aided in the regeneration.

It seemed like something in this place could easily kill him. He felt as if the dimension-killer hungrily licked its lips.

The most essential thing in this place could maim him. Perhaps the most common. The one that needed to be consumed to keep the mind clear. The item that was simply indispensable for the group. That which...

Nightmare pulled himself together.

He was the spirit (almost a god) of negative emotions. He would handle this annoying inconvenience.

⛔By the time Error woke up with the sound of Windows XP, Nightmare was sitting nearby as if nothing had happened. The others glanced cautiously in their direction, but for some reason, remained silent. (Are they hiding something?) The Destroyer looked slightly confused, as if he had fallen asleep at the beginning of the movie and woken up closer to the end. His last memory was parting ways with the Temmie shop. Nightmare, sitting next to him, calmly mentioned that they had encountered people. (Error didn't inquire about injuries, seeing a black puddle on the floor. Nightmare looked fine, as did the others, so nothing serious seemed to have happened).

Error hated his reboots. But sometimes they saved him from truly horrible (thoughts) things. For example, from injuries and wounds. But it was infuriating that a bunch of people had brought him to this point. As if Error couldn't kick meat sacks' asses anymore.

Usually after such emotional shocks, he would visit the "Disgusting #13" fridge and settle in to watch Undernovelle. But opening portals in this place was impossible. So...

Wait. The Destroyer turned his gaze to Horror. He unexpectedly remembered something. Something about what this guy carried in his inventory. Greasy Marshmallow. He recalled that the recommendations mentioned something about a chocolate flavor. If that was the case, it was worth trying his luck and preparing this thing. Especially since he saw blurry (no, he won't get his glasses) outlines of pepper shakers nearby. The Destroyer wasn't skilled in cooking food, so he menacingly moved towards Horror.

🦴 Dust was concerned about what had happened. At first, Nightmare drove people away, although he ordered them not to engage in combat and to survey the area. Then, for some reason, Error took a long time to come out of reboot. It was crystal clear that something serious had occurred, prompting Nightmare to change his plans so drastically. And Nightmare doesn't do that without a significant reason. But what happened to Error? Did they quarrel? Will Error leave now? Dust pulled up his hood, and anxiety crawled down his neck like a swarm of insects.

Then it turns out that water, which they all carry with them, can harm their boss. The water they MUST carry with them to stay sane. This could be a problem. Damn, it already is.

He clenched his hands in the pockets of his hoodie so tightly that he felt one of the ballpoint pens he had there snap. Dust took a deep breath and tried to calm down as Nightmare had taught him. The boss had taught him many techniques to reduce anxiety.

A white butterfly fluttered past his face. He constantly felt the tickle of moths following behind him. They were various butterflies and moths that flocked to him as they roamed Level 4. For some reason, he didn't feel the usual irritation from this. Dust assumed it was because of the Strange Amulet Horror had given him. This phenomenon began precisely when Dust equipped it. Just in case, he made a note in the margins of his notebook:

"I feel like because of the Strange Amulet, I've started to love insects. Almond Water is dangerous for Nightmare."

Dust began to understand why the notes in the notebook were disjointed. Recording troubling thoughts somehow freed him from them.

⚔️ Cross volunteered to scout the area so they could proceed safely. Horror wanted to go with him as usual, but Error pulled Horror aside to cook something. Before arriving in this place, they often did reconnaissance together with the big skeleton. They got along well, so the familiar sense of the imposing figure's presence behind Cross would reassure him. Especially after the recent events.

Yes, the "injury from water" and "Nightmare" seemed like a strange combination, but Nightmare controlled his emotions and, in Cross's view, might not be at risk of losing his mind. At least, that seemed logical. After all, fish don't drown in water, right?

"That's true, Crossy. But what about Almond Water?" joked Killer, who went with him instead of Horror. He twirled a knife in his hands, and his frozen smirk made one feel uneasy.

Cross didn't reply. He didn't particularly enjoy being around Killer. He always felt like the skeleton with a knife might attack out of boredom and made sure not to lose sight of him.

After a few rooms, they found a stairwell with torn wallpaper and a creaky staircase. It resembled the description of the passage to Level 5. They needed to return and inform the others of their discovery.

🔪 Killer was pleased. The boss's food poisoning was certainly dreadful, as was Error's figure hidden in mistakes, as was the agitated Dust, as... Well, much in this place was dreadful. Probably. Killer wasn't sure exactly. He struggled with identifying emotions. But he definitely enjoyed the whirlwind of events. He knew he felt a chill at the sight of pain on Nightmares face. He knew he felt inspired when Horror and Error started making marshmallows using the heating element that was still in the office cooler (The prepared Greasy Marshmallow resembled sweet thick cocoa with vanilla and cinnamon). He also knew for sure that he WOULDN'T use the Temmie Flake popper near Nightmare. (Perhaps he could use the Flowey Seed popper instead? It was worth exploring this question.) And he was definitely very curious to see what awaited them next.

The new level that he and Cross led the group to also pleased him in many ways: there were more items, more different textures and materials. It seemed he even saw a cat, but couldn't catch up with it. Much of Level 5 reminded him of the castle where they had all lived before. Soft chairs and sofas, subdued lighting, and eerie portraits.

Ah, almost like home.

🪓 The district was clean. Horror sensed faint human smells on the furniture, in the rooms, noticed inappropriate litter for the setting. Thanks to their stop at Temmie's, he knew that people visited this hotel quite often, even rented rooms. And this kept him on edge.

The people they encountered on Level 4 puzzled him. He managed to Check one discreetly as he pushed forward in the hustle. Their stat block had no parameters, including the HOPE indicator. It wasn't hidden or inaccessible. It simply wasn't there. The description was unusually brief "...".

Earlier, while they were still in the rest area on Level 4, Error asked (ordered) Horror to retrieve the Greasy Marshmallow from the inventory. Considering he could have just hacked the code and stolen the item, it was quite polite. Horror even dared to set a condition: if they cook, they cook for everyone. Error agreed. While they were cooking with the Destroyer, Horror shared his observations about people with him. Error shrugged irritably.

"What doesn't have a health bar is hard to kill. If what you're saying is true, it will be like fighting a ghost," he replied briefly.

It was good they didn't engage in battle. Horror hated fighting ghosts. They were exhausting. During it, one felt like giving up.

In the end, the group had to stop for the night. Nightmare stayed on guard. He had to forcibly restrain Killer from attempting something foolish, and Killer quickly fell asleep.

It had been a very long day.

Nightmare belongs to Jokublog Killer belongs to RahafWabas Dust belongs to Ask-DustTale Horror belongs to Sour-Apple-Studios Error belongs to CrayonQueen Cross belongs to JakeiArtwork